

M tSH-h- 


KLEGG: 

SI AND SHORTY, WITH THEIR BOY RECRUITS, 
ENTER ON THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN 


BY JOHN MCELROY 



BOOK No^ 6 


Published by 


The National Tribune, Washington, D. C. 


V 


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^ MW or rii \Tr\v, 


CHATTANOOGA IN 1864. 












v/Sl KLEGO 


SI AND SHORTY, WITH THEIR BOY RECRUITS, 
ENTER ON THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN 


By John McElroy. y 



PUBLISHED BY 

THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE COMPANY, 
WASHINGTON, D. C. 


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rzj 

. 1544 


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4 


SECOND EDITION — ENLARGED AND REVISED. 
COPYRIGHT 1915 

BY THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE COM PAN’ 


S-V. / 




©CI.A420363f 



JANS I9!6 J 


PREFACE. 


“Si Klegg, of the 200th Ind., and Shorty, his 
Partner, were born years ago in the brain of John 
McElroy, Editor of The National Tribune. 

These sketches are the original ones published in 
The National Tribune, revised and enlarged some- 
what by the author. How true they are to nature 
every veteran can abundantly testify from his own 
service. Really, only the name of the regiment was 
invented. There is no doubt that there were several 
men of the name of Josiah Klegg in the Union 
Army, and who did valiant service for the Govern- 
ment. They had experiences akin to, if not identical 
with, those narrated here, and substantially every 
man who faithfully and bravely carried a musket in 
defense of the best Government on earth had some- 
times, if not often, experiences of which those of 
Si Klegg are a strong reminder. 

The Publishers. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Chapter I. — Shorty Begins Being a Father to Pete Skid- 
more II 

Chapter II. — Si and Shorty Come Very Near Losing Their 

Boys i6 

Chapter III. — The Partners Get Back to Their Regiment at 

Last With All Their Recruits 32 

Chapter IV. — The Recruits Are Assigned to Companies 46 

Chapter V. — The Young Recruits Are Given an Initiation 

Into Army Life 58 

Chapter VI. — Si Klegg Puts His Awkward Squad Thru Its 

First Drill 67 

Chapter VII. — Shorty’s Heart Turns Toward Maria, and 

He Finally Gets a Letter From Her 79 

Chapter VIII. — Shorty Writes a Letter to Maria Klegg and 
Enters Upon His Parental Relations to Little Pete 

Skidmore 92 

Chapter IX. — Si Takes His Boys For a Little March Into 

the Country 102 

Chapter X. — The Boys Have a Couple of Little Skirmishes, 

But Finally Get to the Mill 114 

Chapter XI. — Shorty Gives the Boys Their First Lesson in 

Foraging 127 

Chapter XII. — The Opening of the Atlanta Campaign 141 

Chapter XIII. — The First Day of the Atlanta Campaign.. .. 154 

Chapter XIV. — The Evening After the Battle 167 

Chapter XV. — The Fighting Around Buzzard’s Roost, and 
the Capture of the Rebel Stronghold 176 


CONTENTS. 


Vll 


Chapter XVI — The 200th Ind. Assaults the Rebel Works at 

Daybreak 

Chapter XVII. — Gathering Up the Boys After the Battle 

Chapter XVIII. — An Artillery Duel and a “Demonstration” 

on the Enemy’s Position 

Chapter XIX. — Si and Shorty Are Put Under Arrest 

Chapter XX. — Shorty is Arraigned Before the Court- 
Martial 


195 

214 

226 

241 

254 





ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Chattanooga in 1864. Frontispiece 

Little Pete Found 13 

“He Ain’t No Officer” 27 

Old Friends Meet 41 

“You Have Lost Little Pete” 51 

“Them’s Our Names and Addresses” 59 

“Draw Your Stomachs In” 73 

A Letter From Maria 81 

Pete Gets Licked 99 

Close Up, Boys 1 1 1 

“Don’t Anybody Shoot” 119 

“Mr. Yank, Don’t Conjure Me” 135 

Little Pete’s “Awful Rebels” • 149 

Little Pete’s Horse Bolts 169 

Monty Sees Things, Too 185 

The Charge Thru the Abatis • 21 1 

“Hooray For The Old Battery” 231 

Awful Destruction 242 

Shorty Reports For Trial 257 


THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 
TO THE RANK AND FILE 


OF THE GRANDEST ARMY EVER MUSTERED FOR WAR. 


THIS IS NUMBER SIX 
OF THE. 


SI KLEGG SERH:S, 


SI KLEGG 


CHAPTER I. 


SHORTY BEGINS BEING A FATHER TO PETE SKIDMORE. 

'‘Come, my boy,” Si said kindly. “Don’t cry. 
You’re a soldier now, and soldiers don’t cry. 
Stop it.” 

“Dod durn it,” blubbered Pete, “I ain’t cryin’ 
bekase I’m skeered. I’m cryin’ bekase I’m afeared 
you’ll lose me. I know durned well you’ll lose me 
yit, with all this foolin’ around.” 

“No, we won’t,” Si assured him. “You just keep 
with us and you’ll be all right.” 

“Here, you blim-blammed, moon-eyed suckers, git 
offen that ’ere crossin’,” yelled at them a fireman 
whose engine came tearing down toward the middle 
of the squad. “Hain’t you got no more sense than 
to stand on a crossin’?” 

He hurled a chunk of coal at the squad, which 
hastily followed Si to the other side of the track. 

“Hello, there; where are you goin’, you chuckle- 
headed clodhoppers?” yelled the men on another 
train rushing down from a different direction. 
“This ain’t no hayfield. Go back home and drive 
cows, and git out o’ the way o’ men who’re at work.” 

There was more scurrying, and when at last Si 
reached a clear space, he had only a portion of his 
squad with him, while Shorty was vowing he would 


( 11 ) 


12 


SI KLEGG. 


not go a step farther until he had licked a railroad 
man. But the engines continued to whirl back and 
forth in apparently purposeless confusion, and the 
moment that he fixed upon any particular victim 
of his wrath, he was sure to be compelled to jump 
out of the way of a locomotive clanging up from an 
unexpected direction and interposing a train of 
freight cars between him and the man he was after. 

Si was too deeply exercised about getting his 
squad together to pay attention to Shorty or the 
jeering, taunting railroaders. He became very fear- 
ful that some of them had been caught and badly 
hurt, probably killed, by the remorseless locomo- 
tives. 

“This’s wuss’n a battle,” he remarked to the boys 
around him. “I’d ruther take you out on the skir- 
mish-line than through them trains agin.” 

However, he had come to get some comprehension 
of the lay of the ground and the movements of the 
trains by this time, and by careful watching suc- 
ceeded in gathering in his boys, one after another, 
until he had them all but little Pete Skidmore. The 
opinion grew among them that Pete had unwisely 
tried to keep up with the bigger boys, who had 
jumped across the track in front of a locomotive, 
and had been caught and crushed beneath the 
wheels. He had been seen up to a certain time, and 
then those who were last with him had been so 
busy getting out of the way that they had forgotten 
to look for him. Si calmed Shorty down enough 
to get him to forget the trainmen for awhile and 
take charge of the squad while he went to look for 
Pete. He had become so bewildered that he could 


SHORTY A FATHER TO PETE SKIDMORE. 


13 


not tell the direction whence they had come, or 
where the tragedy was likely to have happened. 
The farther he went in attempting to penetrate the 
maze of moving trains, the more hopeless the quest 
seemed. Finally he went over to the engineer of a 



LITTLE PETE FOUND. 


locomotive that was standing still and inquired if 
he had heard of any accident to a boy soldier during 
the day. 

‘‘Seems to me that I did hear some o’ the boys 
talkin’ about No. 47 or 63 havin’ run over a boy, or 


14 


SI KLEGG. 


something,” answered the engineer carelessly, with- 
out removing his pipe from his mouth. “I didn’t 
pay no attention to it. Them things happen every 
day. Sometimes it’s my engine, sometimes it’s some 
other man’s. But I hain’t run over nobody for nigh 
a month now.” 

'^Confound it,” said Si savagely; ‘‘you talk about 
runnin’ over men as if it was part o’ your business.” 

“No,” said the engineer languidly, as he reached 
up for his bell-rope. “ ’Tain’t, so to speak, part o’ 
our regler business. But the yard’s awfully crowd- 
ed, old Sherman’s makin’ it do five times the work 
it was calculated for, trains has got to be run on the 
dot, and men must keep off the track if they don’t 
want to git hurt. Stand clear, there, yourself, for 
I’m goin’ to start.” 

Si returned dejectedly to the place where he had 
left his squad. The expression of his face told the 
news before he had spoken a word. It was now 
getting dark, and he and Shorty decided that it was 
the best thing to go into bivouac where they were 
and wait till morning before attempting to penetrate 
the maze beyond in search of their regiment. They 
gathered up some wood, built fires, made coffee and 
ate the remainder of their rations. They were all 
horribly depressed by little Pete Skidmore’s fate, 
and Si and Shorty, accustomed as they were to vio- 
lent deaths, could not free themselves from responsi- 
bility however much they tried to reason it out as 
an unavoidable accident. They could not talk to 
one another, but each wrapped himself up in his 
blanket and sat moodily, a little distance from the 
fires, chewing the cud of bitter fancies. Neither 


SHORTY A FATHER TO PETE SKIDMORE. 


15 


could bear the thought of reporting to their regi- 
ment that they had been unable to take care of the 
smallest boy in their squad. Si’s mind went back 
to Peter Skidmore’s home, and his mother, whose 
heart would break over the news. 

The clanging and whistling of the trains kept up 
unabated, and Si thought they made the most hate- ‘ 
ful din that ever assailed his ears. 

Presently one of the trains stopped opposite them 
and a voice called from the locomotive: 

‘‘Do you men know of a squad of Injianny recruits 
commanded by Serg’t Klegg?” 

. “Yes, here they are,” said Si, springing up. “Pm 
Serg’t Klegg.” 

“That’s him,” piped out Pete Skidmore’s voice 
from the engine, with a very noticeable blubber of 
joy. “He’s the same durned old fool that I kept 
tellin’ all the time he’d lose me if he wasn’t careful, 
and he went and done it all the same.” 

“Well, here’s your boy,” continued the first voice. 
“Be mighty glad you’ve got him back and see that 
you take care o’ him after this. My fireman run 
down on the cow-ketcher and snatched him up just 
in the nick o’ time. A second more and he’d bin 
mince-meat. Men what can’t take better care o’ 
boys oughtn’t to be allowed to have charge of ’em. 
But the Government gits all sorts o’ damn fools for 
$13 a month.” 

Si was so delighted at getting Pete back unhurt 
that he did not have the heart to reply to the 
engineer’s gibes. 


CHAPTER IL 


SI AND SHORTY COME VERY NEAR LOSING THEIR BOYS. 

A ll healthy boys have a strong tincture of the 
savage in them. The savage alternately wor- 
ships his gods with blind, unreasoning idol- 
atry, or treats them with measureless contumely. 

Boys do the same with their heroes. It is either 
fervent admiration, or profound distrust, merging 
into actual contempt. After the successful little 
skirmish with the guerrillas the boys were wild in 
their enthusiasm over Si and Shorty. They could 
not be made to believe that Gens. Grant, Sherman or 
Thomas could conduct a battle better. But the 
moment that Si and Shorty seemed dazed by the 
multitude into which they were launched, a revulsion 
of feeling developed, which soon threatened to be 
ruinous to the partners’ ascendancy. 

During the uncomfortable, wakeful night the pres- 
tige of the partners still further diminished. In 
their absence the army had been turned topsy-turvy 
and reorganized in a most bewildering way. The 
old familiar guide-marks had disappeared. Two of 
the great corps had been abolished — consolidated 
into one, with a new number and a strange com- 
mander. Two corps of strange troops had come in 
from the Army of the Potomac, and had been con- 


( 16 ) 


SI AND SHORTY NEAR LOSING THEIR BOYS. 17 


•solidated into one, taking an old corps’ number. 
Divisions, brigades and regiments had been totally 
changed in commanders, formation and position. 
Then the Army of the Tennessee had come in, to 
complicate the seeming muddle, and the more that 
Si and Shorty cross-questioned such stragglers as 
came by the clearer it seemed to the boys that they 
were hopelessly bewildered, and the more depressed 
the youngsters became. 

The morning brought no relief. Si and Shorty 
talked together, standing apart from the squad, and 
casting anxious glances over the swirling mass of 
army activity, which the boys did not fail to note 
and read with dismal forebodings. 

“I do believe they’re lost,” whimpered little Pete 
Skidmore. “What in goodness will ever become of 
us, if we’re lost in this awful wilderness?” 

The rest shuddered and grew pale at this horrible 
prospect. 

“That looks like a brigade headquarters over 
there,” said Si, pointing to the left. “And I believe 
that’s our old brigade flag. I’m goin’ over there 
to see.” 

“I don’t believe that’s any brigade headquarters 
at all,” said Shorty. “Up there, to the right, looks 
ever so much more like a brigade headquarters. 
I’m goin’ up there to see. You boys stay right there, 
and don’t move off the ground till I come back. I 
won’t be gone long.” 

As he left, the boys began to feel more lonely and 
hopeless than ever, and little Pete Skidmore had 
hard work to restrain his tears. 

A large, heavy-jowled man, with a mass of black 


18 


SI KIEGG. 


whiskers, and wearing a showy but nondescript 
uniform, appeared. 

“That must be one o’ the big Generals,” said 
Harry Joslyn. “Looks like the pictures o’ Grant. 
Git into line, boys, and salute.” 

“No, it ain’t Grant, neither,” said Gid Mackall. 
“Too big. Must be Gen. Thomas.” 

The awed boys made an effort to form a line and 
receive him properly. 

“Who are you, boys?” said the newcomer, after 
gravely returning the salute. 

“We’re recruits for the 200th Injianny Volunteer 
Infantry,” answered Harry Joslyn. “Kin you tell us 
where the rijimint is? We’re lost. 

“Used to know sich a regiment. In fact, I used 
to be Lieutenant-Colonel of it. But I hain’t beared 
of it for a long time. Think it’s petered out.” 

“Petered out!” gasped the boys. 

“Yes. It was mauled and mummixed to death. 
There’s plenty o’ mismanagement all around the 
army, but the 200th Injianny had the worst luck 
of all. It got into awful bad hands. I quit it just 
as soon’s I see how things was a-going. They begun 
to plant the men just as soon’s they crossed the 
Ohio, and their graves are strung all the way from 
Louisville to Chickamauga. The others got tired o’ 
being mauled around, and starved, and tyrannized 
over, and o’ fighting for the nigger, and they skipped 
for home like sensible men.” 

The boys shuddered at the doleful picture. 

“Who brung you here?” continued the newcomer. 

“Sarjint Klegg and Corpril Elliott,” answered 
Harry. 


SI AND SHORTY NEAR LOSING THEIR BO%S. 19 

“Holy smoke,” said the newcomer with a look of 
disgust. “They’ve made non-commish out o’ them 
sapsuckers. Why, I wouldn’t let them do nothin’ 
but dig ditches when I was in command o’ the 
regiment. But they probably had to take them. 
All the decent material was gone. How much 
bounty’d you get?” 

“We got $27.50 apiece,” answered Harry. “But 
we didn’t care nothin’ for the bounty. We” 

“Only $27.50 apiece. Holy smoke ! They’re payin’ 
10 times that in some places.” 

“I tell you, we didn’t enlist for the bounty,” re- 
iterated Harry. 

“All the same, you don’t want to be robbed o’ 
what’s yours. You don’t want to be skinned out o’ 
your money by a gang o’ snoozers who’re gittin’ rich 
off of green boys like you. Where’s this Sarjint 
Klegg and Corpril Elliott that brung you here?” 

“They’ve gone to look for the rijimint.” 

“Gone to look for the regiment. Much they’ve 
gone to look for the regiment. They’ve gone to 
look out for their scalawag selves. When you see 
’em agin, you’ll know ’em, that’s all.” 

Little Pete Skidmore began to whimper. 

“Say, boys,” continued the newcomer, “you’d bet- 
ter drop all idee of that 200th Injianny and come 
with me. If there is any sich a regiment any more, 
and you get to it, you’d be sorry for it as long as 
you live. I know a man over here who’s got a nice 
regiment, and wants a few more, boys like you to 
fill it up. He’ll treat you white and give you twice 
as much bounty as you’ll git anywhere’s else, and 
he’s goin’ to keep his regiment back in the fortifica- 


20 


SI KLEGG. 


tions, where there won’t be no fightin’, and hard 
marches, and starvation” 

“But we enlisted to fight and march, and” 

interjected Harry. 

“Well, you want a good breakfast just now, 
more’n anything else, judgin’ from appearances. 
Come along with me and I’ll git you something 
to eat.” 

“But we waz enlisted for the 200th Injianny 
Volunteer Infantry, and must go to that rijimint,” 
protested Monty Scruggs. 

“Well, what’s that got to do with your havin’ a 
good breakfast?” said the newcomer plausibly. 
“You need that right off. Then we kin talk about 
your regiment. As a matter of fact, you’re only 
enlisted in the Army of the United States and have 
the right to go to any regiment you please. Tyran- 
nical as the officers may be, they can’t take that 
privilege of an American freeman away from you. 
Come along and git breakfast first.” 

The man’s appearance was so impressive, his 
words and confident manner so convincing, and the 
boys so hungry that their scruples vanished, and 
all followed the late Lieut.-Col. Billings, as he gave 
the word, and started off through the mazes of the 
camp with an air of confident knowledge that com- 
pleted his conquest of them. 

Ex-Lieut.-Col. Billings strode blithely along, feel- 
ing the gladsome exuberance of a man who had 
“struck a good thing,” and turning over in his mind 
as to where he had best market his batch of lively 
recruits, how he could get around the facts of their 
previous enlistment, and how much he ought to 


SI AND SHORTY NEAR LOSING THEIR BOYS. 21 


realize per head. He felt that he could afford to 
give the boys a good breakfast, and that that would 
be fine policy. Accordingly, he led the way to one 
of the numerous large eating houses, established by 
enterprising sutlers, to their own great profit and 
the shrinkage of the pay of the volunteers. He lined 
the boys up in front of the long shelf which served 
for a table and ordered the keeper: 

'‘Now, give each of these boys a good breakfast 
of ham and eggs and trimmings and Fll settle 
for it” 

"Good morning Kunnel. When ’d you git down 
here?’^ said a voice at his elbow. 

"Hello, Groundhog, is that you?” said Billings, 
turning around. "Just the man I wanted to see. 
Finish your breakfast and come out here. I want 
to talk to you.” 

"Well,” answered Groundhog, wiping his mouth, 
"I’m through. The feller that runs this shebang 
ain’t made nothin’ offen me, I kin tell you. It’s the 
first square meal I’ve had for a week, and I’ve et 
until there ain’t a crack left inside o’ me that a 
skeeter could git his bill in. I laid out to git the 
wuth o’ my money, and I done it. What’re you 
doin’ down here in this hole? Ain’t Injianny good 
enough for you?” 

"Injianny’s good enough on general principles, 
but just now there’s too much Abolition malaria 
there for me. The Lincoln satraps ’ve got the swing 
on me, and I thought I’d take a change of air. I’ve 
come down here to see if there weren’t some chances 
to make a good turn, and I’ve done very well so far. 
I’ve done a little in cattle and got some cotton 
through the lines — enough at least to pay my board 


22 


SI KLEGG. 


and railroad fare. But I think the biggest thing is 
in recruits, and Fve got a scheme which I may let 
you into. You know there are a lot of agents down 
here from the New England States trying to git 
niggers to fill up their quotas, and they are paying 
big money for recruits. Can't you go out and gether 
up a lot o' niggers that we kin sell 'em?" 

'‘Sure," said Groundhog confidently. “Kin git all 
you want, if you'll pay for 'em. But what's this 
gang you've got with you?" 

“0, they're a batch for that blasted Abolition out- 
fit, the 200th Injianny. Them two ornery galoots, 
Si and Shorty, whose necks I ought've broke when 
I was with the regiment, have brung 'em down. 
They're not goin' to git to the 200th Injianny if I 
kin help it, though. First place, it'll give old Mc- 
Biddle, that Abolition varmint, enough to git him 
mustered as Colonel. He helped oust me, and I have 
it in for him. He was recommended for promotion 
for gittin' his arm shot off at Chickamauga. Wisht 
it'd bin his cussed head." 

“But what're you goin' to do with the gang?" 
Groundhog inquired. 

“0, there are two or three men around here that 
I kin sell 'em to for big money. I ought to make 
a clean thousand off 'em if I make a cent." 

“How much'll I git out o' that?" inquired Ground- 
hog anxiously. 

“Well, you ain't entitled to nothin' by rights. I've 
hived this crowd all by myself, and kin work 'em 
all right. But if you'll come along and make any 
affidavits that we may need. I'll give you a sawbuck. 
But on the nigger lay I'll stand in even with you, 


SI AND SHORTY NEAR LOSING THEIR BOYS. 23 


half and half. You run ’em in and I’ll place ’em 
and we’ll whack up.” 

’Tain’t enough,” answered Groundhog angrily. 
“Look here, Jeff Billings, I know you of old. You’ve 
played off on me before, and I won’t stand no more 
of it. Jest bekase you’ve bin a Lieutenant-Colonel 
and me only a teamster you’ve played the high and 
mighty with me. I’m jest as good as you are any 
day. I wouldn’t give a howl in the infernal regions 
for your promises. You come down now with $100 
in greenbacks and I’ll go along and help you all I 
kin. If you don’t” 

“If I don’t what’ll you do, you lowlived whelp?” 
said Billings, in his usual brow-beating manner. “I 
only let you into this as a favor, because I’ve knowed 
you before. You hain’t brains enough to make a 
picayune yourself, and hain’t no gratitude when 
someone else makes it for you. Git out o’ here ; I’m 
ashamed to be seen speakin’ to a mangy hound like 
you. Git out o’ here before I kick you out. Don’t 
you dare speak to one o’ them boys, or ever to me 
agin. If you do I’ll mash you. Git out.” 

Si and Shorty’s dismay when they returned and 
found their squad entirely disappeared was over- 
whelming. They stood and gazed at one another 
for a minute in speechless alarm and wonderment. 

“Great goodness,” gasped Si at length, “they can’t 
have gone far. They must be somewhere around.” 

“Don’t know about that,” said Shorty despair- 
ingly. “We’ve bin gone some little time and they’re 
quick-footed little rascals.” 

“What foojs we wuz to both go off and leave ’em,” 


24 


SI KLEGG. 


murmured Si in deep contrition. “What fools we 
wuz.’’ 

“No use o’ cryin’ over spilt milk,” answered 
Shorty. “The thing to do now is to find ’em, which 
is very much like huntin’ a needle in a haystack. 
You stay here, on the chance o’ them cornin’ back, 
and I’ll take a circle around there to the left and 
look for ’em. If I don’t find ’em I’ll come back and 
we’ll go down to the Provo-Marshal’s.” 

“Goodness, I’d rather be shot than go back to the 
rijimint without ’em,” groaned Si. “How kin I 
ever face the Colonel and the rest o’ the boys?” 

Leaving Si gazing anxiously in every direction 
for some clew to his missing youngsters. Shorty 
rushed off in the direction of the sutler’s shanties, 
where instinct told him he was most likely to find 
the runaways. 

He ran up against Groundhog. 

“Where are you goin’ in sich a devil of a hurry?” 
the teamster asked. “Smell a distillery some- 
where?” 

“Hello, Groundhog, is that you? Ain’t you dead 
yit? Say, have you seen a squad o’ recruits around 
here — all boys, with new uniforms, and no letters or 
numbers on their caps?” 

“Lots and gobs of ’em. Camp’s full of ’em. 
More cornin’ in by every train.” 

“But these wuz all Injianny boys, most of ’em 
little. Not an old man among ’em.” 

“Shorty, I know where your boys are. What’ll 
you give me to tell you?” 

Shorty knew his man of old, and just the basis 
on which to open negotiations. 


SI AND SHORTY NEAR LOSING THEIR BOYS. 25 


''Groundhog, Fve just had my canteen filled with 
first-class whisky — none o’ your commissary rotgut, 
but old rye, hand-made, fire-distilled. I got it to 
take out to the boys o’ the rijimint to celebrate my 
cornin’ back. Le’ me have just one drink out of it, 
and I’ll give it to you if you’ll tell.” 

Groundhog wavered an instant. “I wuz offered 
$10 on the other side.” 

Shorty was desperate. "I’ll give you the whisky 
and $10.” 

"Le’ me see your money and taste your licker.” 

"Here’s the money,” said Shorty, showing a bill. 
"I ain’t goin’ to trust you with the canteen, but I’ll 
pour out this big spoon full, which’ll be enough for 
you to taste.” Shorty drew a spoon from his haver- 
sack and filled it level full. 

"It’s certainly boss licker,” said Groundhog, after 
he had drunk it, and prudently hefted the canteen 
to see if it was full. "I’ll take your offer. You’re 
to have just one swig out o’ it, and no more, and 
not a hog-swaller neither. I know you. You’d 
drink that hull canteenful at one gulp, if you had to. 
You’ll let me put my thumb on your throat?” 

"Yes, and I’ll give you the canteen now and the 
money after we find the boys.” 

"All right. Go ahead. Drink quick, for you 
must go on the jump, or you’ll lose your boys.” 

Shorty lifted the canteen to his lips and Ground- 
hog clasped his throat with his thumb on Adam’s 
apple. When Shorty got his breath he sputtered : 

"Great Jehosephat, you didn’t let me git more’n a 
spoonful. But where are the boys?” 

"Old Jeff Billings’s got ’em down at Zeke Wig- 


26 


SI KLEGG. 


gins’s hash-foundry feedin’ ’em, so’s he kin toll ’em 
off into another rijimint.” 

'‘Old Billings agin,” shouted Shorty in a rage. 
“Where’s the place? Show it to me. But wait a 
minute till I run back and git my pardner.” 

“Gi’ me that licker fust,” shouted Groundhog, but 
Shorty was already running back for Si. When he 
returned with him he threw the 'canteen to Ground- 
hog with the order, “Go ahead and show us the 
place.” 

By the time they came in sight of the sutler’s 
shanty the boys had finished their breakfast and 
were moving off after Billings. 

“There’s your man and there’s your boys,” said 
Groundhog, pointing to them. “Now gi’ me that 
’ere sawbuck. You’ll have to excuse me havin’ any- 
thing to do with old Billings. He’s licked me twice 
already.” 

Shorty shoved the bill into his hand, and rushed 
down in front of Billings. 

“Here, you black-whiskered old roustabout, where 
’re you takin’ them boys?” he demanded. 

“Git out o’ my way, you red-headed snipe,” an- 
swered Billings, making a motion as if to brush 
him away. 

“If you don’t go off and leave them boys alone 
I’ll belt you over the head with my gun,” said Si, 
raising his musket. 

“You drunken maverick,” answered Billings, try- 
ing to brave it out. “I’ll have you shot for insultin’ 
and threatenin’ your sooperior officer. Skip out o’ 
here before the Provo comes up and ketches you. 
Let me go on about my business. Forward, boys.” 


SI AND SHORTY NEAR LOSING THEIR BOYS. 27 


“Officer nothin'. You can't play that on us," said 
Si. “Halt, there, boys, and stand fast." 

A crowd of teamsters, sutlers' men and other 
camp followers gathered around. A tall, sandy- 
bearded man with keen, gray eyes and a rugged, 



HE AIN'T NO OFFICER. 


stony face rode up. He wore a shabby slouch hat, 
his coat was old and weather-stained, but he rode 
a spirited horse. 

“Here, what's all this row about?" he asked in 
quick, sharp tones. 


28 


SI KLEGG. 


“Keep out o’ this mix/’ said Shorty, without look- 
ing around. “ ’Tain’t none o’ your business. This 
is our party.” With that he made a snatch at Bil- 
lings’s collar to jerk him out of the way. 

“What, you rascal, would you assault an officer?” 
said the newcomer, spurring his horse through the 
crowd to get at Shorty. 

“He ain’t no officer. General,” said Si, catching 
sight of two dim stars on the man’s shoulders. 
“He’s tryin’ to steal our recruits from us.” 

“Yes, I am an officer,” said Billings, avoiding 
Shorty’s clutch. “These men are assaultin’ me 
while I’m on duty. I want them arrested and pun- 
ished.” 

“Fall back there, both of you,” said the General 
severely, as Si and Shorty came to a present arms. 
“Sergeant, who are you, and where do you belong?” 

“I’m Serg’t Klegg, sir, of Co. Q, 200th Injianny 
Volunteer Infantry.” 

“Who are you. Corporal?” 

“I’m Corp’l Elliott, sir, of Co. Q, 200th Injianny 
Volunteer Infantry.” 

“Now, officer, who are you?” 

“I’m Lieut.-Col. Billings, sir.” 

“Where’s your shoulder-straps?” 

“I had ’em taken off this coat to git fixed. They 
were torn.” 

“Where’s your sword?’’ 

“I left it in my quarters.” 

“Fine officer, to go on duty that way. Where do 
you belong?” 

Billings hesitated an instant, but he felt sure that 


SI AND SHORTY NEAR LOSING THEIR BOYS. 29 


the General did not belong to the Army of the 
Cumberland, and he answered: 

‘‘I belong to the 200th Ind.” 

'‘That ain't true, General,” Si protested. “He was 
fired out of the regiment a year ago. He's a citizen.” 

“Silence, Sergeant. Billings? Billings? The 
name of the Lieutenant-Colonel of the 200th Ind. 
happens to be McBiddle — one-armed man, good sol- 
dier. Billings? Billings? T. J. Billings? Is that 
your name?” 

“Yes, sir,” answered Billings, beginning to look 
very uncomfortable. 

“Didn't you have some trouble about a bunch of 
cattle you sold to the Quartermaster-General?” 

“Well, there was little difference of opinion, 
but” 

“That'll do, sir. That'll do for the present. I 
begin to get you placed. I thought I knew the 
name Billings as soon as you spoke it, but I couldn’t 
remember any officer in my army of that name. 
Now, Sergeant, tell me your story.” 

“General, me and my pardner here,” began Si, 
“have bin home on wounded furlough. Wounded at 
Chickamauga and promoted. We got orders to bring 
on this squad o' recruits from Jeffersonville for our 
rijimint. We got in last night and this mornin’ me 
and my pardner started out to see if we could find 
someone to direct us to the rijimint, leavin' the squad 
alone for a few minutes. While we wuz gone this 
feller, who's bin fired out of our rijimint and an- 
other one that he was in, come along and tolled our 
boys off, intendin' to sneak 'em into another rijimint 
and git pay for 'em. By great good luck we ketched 


30 


SI KLEGG. 


him in time, just before you come up. You kin ask 
the boys themselves if I hain't told you the truth. 

‘‘Good idea,’' said the General, in his quick, per- 
emptory way. “You three (indicating Si, Shorty 
and Billings) march off there 25 paces, while I talk 
to the boys.” 

Gen. Sherman, for it was the Commander of the 
Military Division of the Mississippi, who, with his 
usual impetuous, thorough way, would investigate 
even the most insignificant affair in his camps, when 
the humbr seized him, now sprang from his horse, 
and began a sharp, nervous cross-questioning of the 
boys as to their names, residence, ages, how they 
came there and whither they were bound. 

“You came down with this Sergeant and Corporal, 
did you? You were recruited for the 200th Ind., 
were you? You were put under the charge of those 
men to be taken to your regiment?” he asked Pete 
Skidmore, at the end of the line. 

“Yes, sir,” blubbered Pete. “And they are al- 
ways losin’ us, particularly me, durn ’em. Spite of 
all I kin say to ’em they’ll lose me, durn their skins.” 

“No, my boy, you sha’n’t be lost,” said the General 
kindly, as he remounted. “Stick to your command 
and you’ll come through all right. Billings, you 
thorough-paced rascal, I want you to get to the other 
side of the Ohio River as quickly as the trains will 
carry you. I haven’t time to deal with you as you 
deserve, but if I have occasion to speak to you again 
you’ll rue it as long as you live. There’s a train 
getting ready to go out. If you are wise, you’ll take 
it. Serg’t Klegg and Corp’l Elliott, you deserve to 
lose your stripes for both of you leaving your squad 


SI AND SHORTY NEAR LOSING THEIR BOYS. 31 


at the same time. See that you don’t do it 
again. You’ll find the 200th Ind. in camp on 
the east side of Mission Ridge, about a mile south 
of Rossville Gap. Go out this road until you pass 
old John Ross’s house about a half a mile. You’ll 
find several roads leading off to the right, but don’t 
take any of them till you come to one that turns off 
by a sweet gum and a honey-locust standing together 
on the banks of a creek. Understand? A sweet 
gum and a honey-locust standing together on the 
banks of a creek. Turn off there, go across the 
mountain and you’ll find your camp. Move promptly 
now.” 

‘T declare,” said a big Wagonmaster, as the Gen- 
eral galloped off, ^‘if that old Gump Sherman don’t 
beat the world. He not only knows where every 
regiment in his whole army is located, but I believe 
he knows every man in it. He’s a far-reacher, I 
tell you.” 

“Great Jehosephat,” gasped Shorty, “was that 
Gen. Tecumseh Sherman?” 

“As sure ’s you’re a foot high,” replied the 
Wagonmaster. 

“And I told him to mind his own business,” stam- 
mered Shorty. 

“Yes, and if it hadn’t bin for him you’d ’a’ lost 
us, durn it,” ejaculated little Pete Skidmore. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE PARTNERS GET BACK TO THEIR REGIMENT AT 
LAST, WITH ALL THEIR RECRUITS. 

S I AND SHORTY were too glad to get their boys 
back, and too eager to find their regiment, to 
waste any time in scolding the derelicts. 
“Now that you boys have had a good breakfast,’^ Si 
remarked with an accent of cutting sarcasm, “at the 
expense of that kind-hearted gentleman, Mr. Bil- 
lings, I’m goin’ to give you a pleasant little exercise 
in the shape of a forced march. If you don’t make 
the distance between here and the other side o’ 
RossvHle Gap quicker’n ary squad has ever made it 
I’m much mistaken. Shorty, put yourself on the 
left and bring up the rear.” 

“You bet,” answered Shorty, “and I’ll take durned 
good care I don’t lose little Pete Skidmore.” 

“Now,” commanded Si, getting a good lay of the 
ground toward the gap, “Attention. All ready? 
Forward, march.” 

He led off with the long march stride of the vet- 
eran, and began threading his way through the maze 
of teams, batteries, herds, and marching men and 
stragglers with the ease and certainty born of long 
acquaintance with crowded camps. He dodged 
around a regiment here, avoided a train there, and 
slipped through a marching battery at the next place 
with a swift, unresting progress that quickly took 
away the boys’ wind and made them pant with the 
exertion of keeping up. 


( 32 ) 


BACK TO THEIR REGIMENT. 


33 


In the rear was the relentless Shorty. 

“Close up, there! Close up!” he kept shouting to 
those in front. “Don’t allow no gaps between you. 
Keep marchin’ distance — 19 inches from back to 
breast. Come along, Pete. I ain’t a-goin’ to lose 
you, no matter what happens.” 

“Sarjint,” gasped Harry Joslyn, after they had 
gone a couple of miles, “don’t you call this purty 
fast marchin’?” 

“Naah,” said Si contemptuously. “We’re just 
crawlin’ along. Wait till we git where it’s a little 
clear, and then we’ll go. Here, cut acrost ahead o’ 
that battery that’s cornin’ up a-trot.” 

There was a rush for another mile or two, when 
there was a momentary halt to allow a regiment of 
cavalry to go by at a quick walk. 

“Goodness,” murmured Gid Mackall, as he set 
down the carpet-sack, which he would persist in 
carrying, “are they always in a hurry? I s’posed 
that when soldiers wuzzent marchin’ or fightin’ they 
lay around camp and played cards and stole chick- 
ens, and wrote letters home, but everybody ’round 
here seems on the dead rush.” 

“Don’t seem to be nobody pic-nickin’ as far’s I 
kin see,” responded Si, “but we hain’t no time to 
talk about it now. We must git to the rijimint. 
Forward !” 

Another swift push of two or three miles brought 
them toward the foot of Mission Ridge, and near 
the little, unpainted frame house which had once 
been the home of John Ross, the chief of the 
Cherokees. 

“Boys, there’s the shebang or palace of the big 


2 


34 


SI KLEGG. 


Injun who used to be king of all these mountains 
and valleys/' said Si, stopping the squad to give 
them a much needed rest. “He run this whole 
country, and had Injuns to burn, though he gen- 
erally preferred to burn them that didn't belong to 
his church." 

“Roasted his neighbors instid o' his friends in a 
heathen sort of a way," continued Shorty. 

“What was his name?" inquired Monty Scruggs. 

“John Ross." 

“Humph, not much of a name," said Monty in a 
disappointed tone, for he had been an assiduous 
reader of dime novels. “ 'Tain't anything like as 
fine as Tecumseh, and Osceola, and Powhatan, and 
Jibbeninosay, and Man-Afraid-of-Gettin'-His-Neck- 
Broke. Wasn't much of a big Injun." 

- “Deed he was," answered Si. “He and his fathers 
before him run this whole neck o' woods accordin' 
to the big Injun taste, and give the Army o' the 
United States all they wanted to do. Used to knock 
all the other Injuns around here about like ten-pins. 
The Rosses were bosses from the word go." 

“Don't sound right, though," said Monty regret- 
fully. “And such a shack as that don't look like the 
wigwam of a great chief. 'Tain't any different from 
the hired men's houses on the farms in Injianny." 

“Well, all the same, it's got to go for the scene of 
a cord o' dime novels," said Shorty. “We've brung 
in civilization and modern improvements and killed 
more men around here in a hour o' working time 
than the ignorant, screechin' Injuns killed since 
the flood." 

“Do them rijimints look like the 200th Injianny?" 


BACK TO THEIR REGIMENT. 


35 


anxiously inquired Harry Joslyn, pointing to some 
camps on the mountain-side, where the men were 
drilling and engaged in other soldierly duties. 

'‘Them,” snorted Shorty contemptuously. “Them’s 
only recruits that ain’t got licked into shape yet. 
When you see the 200th Injianny you’ll see a riji- 
mint, I tell you. Best one in the army. You ought 
to be mighty proud you got a chanst to git into 
sich a rijimint.” 

“We are; we are,” the boys assured him. “But 
we’re awful anxious to see jest what it’s like.” 

“Well, you’ll s^e in a little while the boss lot o’ 
boys. Every one of ’em fightin’ cocks, thorough- 
bred — not a dunghill feather or strain in the lot. 
Weeded ’em all out long ago. All straight-cut gen- 
tlemen. They’ll welcome you like brothers and skin 
you out of every cent o’ your bounty, if you play 
cards with ’em. They’re a dandy crowd when it 
comes to fingerin’ the pasteboards. They’ll be regler 
fathers to you, but you don’t want to play no cards 
with ’em.” 

“I thought you said they wuz all gentlemen and 
would be regler brothers to us,” said Harry Joslyn. 

“So they will — so they will. But your brother’s 
the feller that you’ve got to watch clostest when 
he’s settin’ in front o’ you with one little pair. He’s 
the feller that’s most likely to know all you know 
about the cards and what he knows besides. They’ve 
bin skinnin’ one another so long that they’ll be as 
anxious to git at your fresh young blood as a New 
Orleans skeeter is to sink into a man just from the 
North.” 

“Didn’t think they’d allow gambling in so good a 


36 


SI KLEGG. 


regiment as the 200th Ind.,” remarked Alf Russell, 
who was a devoted attendant on Sunday school. 

“Don’t allow it. It’s strictly prohibited.” 

“But I thought that in the army you carried out 
orders, if you had to kill men.” 

“Well, there’s orders and orders,” said Shorty, 
philosophically. “Most of ’em you obey to the last 
curl on the letter R, and do it with a jump. Some 
of ’em you obey only when you have to, and take 
your chances at improving the State o’ Tennessee 
by buildin’ roads and diggin’ up stumps in the 
parade ground if you’re ketched not mindin’. Of 
them kind is the orders agin gamblin’.” 

“Shorty, stop talkin’ to the boys about gamblin’. 
I won’t have it,” commanded Si. “Boys, you mustn’t 
play cards on no account, especially with older men. 
It’s strictly agin orders, besides which I’ll break any 
o’ your necks that I ketch at it. You must take care 
o’ your money and send it home. Forward, march.” 

They went up the road from the John Ross house 
until they came to that turning off to the right by a 
sweet gum and a sycamore, as indicated by Gen. 
Sherman, and then began a labored climbing of the 
rough, stony way across Mission Ridge. Si’s and 
Shorty’s, eagerness to get to the regiment increased 
so with their nearness to it that they went at a 
terrific pace in spite of all obstacles. 

“Please, Sarjint,” begged Gid Mackall, as they 
halted for an instant near a large rock, “need we 
go quite so fast? We’re awfully anxious to git to 
the regiment, too, but I feel like as if I’d stove two 
inches offen my legs already against them blamed 
rocks.” 


BACK TO THEIR REGIMENT. 


37 


“I can’t keep up. I can’t keep up at all,” whim- 
pered little Pete Skidmore. “You are just dead cer- 
tain to lose me.” 

“Pull out just a little more, boys,” Si said pleas- 
antly. “We must be almost there. It can’t be but 
a little ways now.” 

“Close up there in front!” commanded Shorty. 
“Keep marchin’ distance — 19 inches from back to 
breast. Come on, Pete. Gi’ me your hand; I’ll 
help you along.” 

“I ain’t no kid, to be led along by the hand,” 
answered Pete sturdily, refusing the offer. “I’ll 
keep up somehow. But you can’t expect my short 
legs to cover as much ground as them telegraph 
poles o’ your’n.” 

The summit of the ridge was crossed and a num- 
ber of camps appeared along the slope. 

“Wonder which one o’ them is the 200th Inji- 
anny’s?” said Si to Shorty. 

“I thought the 200th Injianny was so much finer 
rijimint than any other that you’d know it at sight,” 
said Harry Joslyn, with a shade of disappointment 
in his voice. 

“I would know it if I was sure I was lookin’ at 
it,” answered Shorty. “But they seem to have 
picked out all the best rijimints in the army to go 
into camp here this side o’ Mission Ridge. Mebbe 
they want to make the best show to the enemy.” 

“That looks like the camp o’ the 200th Injianny 
over there,” said Si, pointing to the right, after 
scanning the mountain-side. “See all them red 
shirts hangin’ out to dry? That’s Co. A; they run 


38 


SI KLEGG. 


to red flannel shirts like a nigger barber to striped 
pants.” 

‘‘No,” answered Shorty; “that’s that Ohio riji- 
mint, made up o’ rollin’ mill men and molders. 
They all wear red flannel shirts. There’s the 200th 
Injianny just down there to the left, with all them 
men on extra duty on the parade ground. I know 
just the gang. Same old crowd; I kin almost tell 
their faces. They’ve bin runnin’ guard, as usual, 
and cornin’ back full o’ apple-jack and bad language 
and desire to give the camp a heavy coat o’ red paint. 
Old McBiddle has tried to convince ’em that he was 
still runnin’ the rijimint, and his idees wuz better’n 
theirs, and there they are. There’s Jim Monaghan 
handlin’ that pick as if he was in the last stages o’ 
consumption. There’s Barney Maguire, pickin’ up 
three twigs ’bout as big as lead pencils, and solemnly 
carryin’ ’em off the parade ground as if they wuz 
fence-rails. I’ll just bet a month’s pay that’s Denny 
Murphy marchin’ up and down there with his knap- 
sack filled with Tennessee dornicks. Denny’s done 
that feather-weight knapsack trick so often that his 
shoulders have corns and windgalls on ’em, and they 
always keen a knapsack packed for him at the 
guard-house ready for one of his Donnybrook fair 
songs and dances. Mighty good boy, Denny, but he 
kin git up a red-hotter riot on his share of a canteen 
of apple-jack than any three men in the rijimint. 
That feller tied to a tree is Tony Wilson. He’s 
refused to dig trenches agin. 0, I tell you, they’re 
a daisy lot.” 

“Shorty,” admonished Si. “You mustn’t talk that 


BACK TO THEIR REGIMENT. 


39 


way before the boys. What'll they think o' the 
rijimint?" 

'Think of it?" said Shorty, recovering himself. 
"They've got to think of it as the very best rijimint 
that ever stood in line-of -battle. I'll punch the head 
of any man that says anything to the contrary. 
Every man in it is a high-toned, Christian gentle- 
man. Mind that, now, every one of you brats, and 
don't you allow nobody to say otherwise." 

"No," said Si, after further study of the camps, 
"neither o' them 's the 200th Injianny. They've both 
got brass bands. Must be new rijimints." 

"Say," said Shorty, "there's a royal lookin' rooster 
standin' up in front of that little house there. Looks 
as il the house was headquarters for some high- 
roller, and him doin' Orderly duty. If he knows as 
much as he's got style, he knows more'n old Sher- 
man himself. Go up and ask him." 

It was the first time in all their service that either 
of them had seen a soldier in the full dress pre- 
scribed by the United States Army regulations, and 
this man had clearly won the coveted detail of 
Orderly by competition with his comrades as being 
the neatest, best-dressed man in the squad. He was 
a tall, fine-looking young man, wearing white gloves 
and a paper collar, with a spotless dress coat but- 
toned to the chin, his shoes shining like mirrors, his 
buttons and belt-plates like new gold, and his regula- 
tion hat caught up on the left side with a feather 
and a gilt eagle. The front of his hat was a mass 
of gilt letters and figures and a bugle, indicating his 
company, regiment and State. On his breast was 
a large, red star. 


40 


SI KLEGG. 


“Jehosephat/' sighed Shorty. ''I wish I had as 
many dollars as he has style. Must be one of old 
Abe’s body guards, sent out here with Grant’s com- 
mission as Lieutenant-General. Expect that red star 
passes him on the railroads and at the hotels. I’d 
like to play him two games out o’ three, cut-throat, 
for it. I could use it in my business.” 

'‘No,” said the Orderly to Si, with a strong Yankee 
twang, “I don’t know a mite about the 200th Ind. 
Leastwise, I don’t remember it. Everybody down 
here’s from Indiana, Ohio or Illinois. It’s one 
eternal mix, like Uncle Jed Stover’s fish — couldn’t 
tell shad, herring nor sprat from one another. It 
seems to me more like a ’tarnal big town-meeting 
than an army. All talk alike, and have got just as 
much to say; all act alike. Can’t tell where an 
Indiana regiment leaves off and Ohio one begins; 
can’t tell officer from private, everybody dresses as 
he pleases, and half of them don’t wear anything to 
tell where they belong. There wasn’t a corps badge 
in the whole army when we come here.” 

“Corps badges — what’s them?” asked Si. 

“Corps badges? Why this is one,” said the man, 
tapping his red star. “This shows I belong to the 
Twelfth Corps — best corps in the Army of the Po- 
tomac, and the First Division — best division in the 
corps. We have to wear them so’s to show our 
General which are his men, and where they be. 
Haven’t you no corps badges?” 

“Our General don’t have to tag us,” said Shorty, 
who had come up and listened. “He knows all of 
us that’s worth knowin’, and that we’ll go wherever 
he orders us, and stay there tilj he pulls us off. Our 


BACK TO THEIR REGIMENT. 


41 


corps badge’s a full haversack and Springfield rifle 
sighted up to 1,200 yards.” 

“Well, you do fight in a most amazing way,” said 
the Orderly, cordially. “We never believed it of 



such rag-tag and bobtail until we saw you go up over 
Mission Ridge. You were all straggling then, but 
you were straggling toward the enemy. Never saw 
such a mob, but it made the rebels sick.” 

“Well, if you’d seen us bustin’ your old friend 


42 


SI KLEGG. 


Longstreet at Snodgrass Hill, you’d seen some he- 
fightin’. We learned him that he wasn’t monkeyin’ 
with the Army o’ the Potomac, but with fellers that 
wuz down there for business, and not to wear paper 
collars and shine their buttons. He come at us 
seven times before we could git that little fact 
through his head, and we piled up his dead like 
cordwood.” 

“Well, you didn’t do any better than we did with 
Early’s men at Culp’s Hill, if we do wear paper 
collars,” returned the other proudly. “After we got 
through with Johnston’s Division you couldn’t see 
the ground in front for the dead and wounded. And 
none of your men got up on Lookout Mountain any 
quicker’n we did. Paper collars and red stars show- 
ed you the way right along.” 

“My pardner’s only envious because he hain’t no 
paper collars nor fine clothes,” said Si, conciliatorily. 
“Pve often told him that if he’d leave chuck-a-luck 
alone and save his money he’d be able to dress bet- 
ter’n Gen. Grant.” 

“Gen. Grant’s no great shakes as a dresser,” re- 
turned the other. “I was never so surprised in my 
life as one day when I was Orderly at Division 
Headquarters, and a short man with a red beard, 
and his clothes spattered with mud, rode up, fol- 
lowed by one Orderly, and said, ‘Orderly, tell the 
General that Gen. Grant would like to see him.’ By 
looking hard I managed to make out three stars on 
his shoulder. Why, -if Gen. McClellan had been 
coming you’d haye seen him for a mile before he 
got there.” 

“If Gen. Grant put on as much style in proportion 


BACK TO THEIR REGIMENT. 


43 


to what he done as McClellan, you could see him as 
far as the moon,’^ ventured Shorty. 

'‘Well, we’re not gettin’ to the rijimint,” said the 
impatient Si. "Le’s rack on. So long. Orderly. 
Come and see us in the 200th Injianny and we’ll 
treat you white. Forward, march!” 

“There’s a couple of boys cornin’ up the road. 
Probably they kin tell us where the rijimint is,” 
suggested Shorty. 

The two boys were evidently recruits of some 
months’ standing, but not yet considered seasoned 
soldiers. 

“No,” they said, “there is no 200th Ind. here now. 
It was here yesterday, and was camped right over 
there, where you see that old camp, but before noon 
came an order to march with three days’ rations and 
40 rounds. It went out the Lafayette Road, and 
the boys seemed to think they wuz goin’ out to 
Pigeon Mountain to begin the general advance o’ 
the army, and wuz mightily tickled over it.” 

“Gone away,” said Si, scanning the abandoned 
camp sadly; “everybody couldn’t have gone. They 
must’ve left somebody behind that wasn’t able to 
travel, and somebody to take care o’ ’em. They 
must’ve left some rijimintal stuff behind and a 
guard over it.” 

“No,” the boys assured him. “They broke up 
camp completely. All that wasn’t able to march 
was sent to the hospital in Chattynoogy. Every mite 
of stuff was loaded into wagons and hauled off with 
’em. They never expected to come back.” 

“That camp ground don’t look as it’d bin occupied 
for two weeks,” said Shorty. “See the ruts made 


44 


SI KLEGG. 


by the rain in the parade ground and the general 
look o’ things. I don’t believe the rijimint only left 
there yisterday. It don’t look as if the 200th In- 
jianny ever had sich a camp. It’s more like one o’ 
the camps o’ them slack-twisted Kaintucky and Ten- 
nessee rijimints.” 

“If Oi didn’t belave that Si Klegg and Sharty was 
did intoirely, and up home in Injianny, Oi’d be sure 
that was their v’ices,” said a voice from the thicket 
by the side of the road. The next instant a red- 
headed man, with a very distinct map of Ireland in 
his face, leaped out, shouting: 

“Si and Sharty, ye thieves of the worruld, whin 
did ye get back, and how are yez? Howly saints, 
but Oi’m glad to see yez.” 

“Jim Monaghan, you old Erin-go-bragh,” said 
Shorty, putting his arm around the man’s neck, 
“may I never see the back o’ my neck, but I’m glad 
to see you. I was just talkin’ about you. I thought 
I recognized you over there in one of the camps, at 
your favorite occupation of extry dooty, cleanin’ up 
the parade ground.” 

“No; Oi’ve not bin on extry jooty for narely two 
wakes now, but it’s about due. But here comes 
Barney Maguire and Con Taylor, Tony Wilson and 
the rest iv the gang. Lord love yez, but they’ll be 
surely glad to see yez.” 

The others came up with a tumultuous welcome to 
both. 

“Where’s the camp?” asked Si. 

“Jist beyant — ^jist beyant them cedars there — not 
a musket-shot away,” answered Jim, pointing to the 
place. 


BACK TO THEIR REGIMENT. 


45 


"‘What’d you mean, you infernal liars, by tellin’ 
us that the rijimint was gone?” said Shorty, wrath- 
fully to the men whom he had met, and who were 
still standing near, looking puzzled at the demon- 
strations. 

''Aisy, now, aisy,” said Jim. '‘We’re to blame for 
that, so we are. Ye say, we wint over by Rossville 
last night and had a bit av a shindy and cleaned out 
a sutler’s shop. We brought away some av the 
most illegant whisky that iver wet a man’s lips, 
and hid it down there in the gulch, where we had 
jist come back for it. We sane you cornin’ and 
thought yez was the provo-guard after us. Ye say 
ye stopped there and talked to that peacock at the 
Provo-Marshal’s quarters, and we thought yez was 
gittin’ instructions. We sint these rookies out, who 
we thought nobody’d know, to give you a little fairy 
story about the rijimint being gone, to throw you 
off the scint, until we could finish the liquor.” 

"Yes, I know,” laughed Shorty, "after you’d got 
the budge down you didn’t care what happened. 
You’re the same old brick-topped Connaught 
Ranger.” 

"You and Si come down into the gulch and 
jine us.” 

"Can’t think of it for a minute,” said Shorty with 
great self-denial. "Don’t speak so loud before these 
boys. They’re recruits for the rijimint. We must 
take ’em into camp. We’ll see you later.” 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE RECRUITS ARE ASSIGNED TO COMPANIES. 

T he strangest feeling possessed Si and Shorty 
when once in the camp of their old regiment, 
and after the first hearty welcome of their 
comrades was over. 

There was a strangeness about everything that 
they could not comprehend. 

It was their regiment — the 200th Ind. ; it was 
made up of the same companies, with the great ma- 
jority of the men the same, but it was very far from 
being the 200th Ind. which crossed the Ohio River 
in September, 1862. 

Marvelous changes had been wrought by 18 
months’ tuition in the iron school of war, in the 10 
separate herds of undisciplined farmer boys which 
originally constituted the regiment. Yellow, downy 
beards appeared on faces which had been of boyish 
smoothness when the river was crossed, but this was 
only one of the minor changes. There was an alert- 
ness, a sureness, a self-confidence shining from eyes 
which was even more marked. Every one carried 
himself as if he knew precisely what he was there 
for, and intended doing it. There was enough mer- 
riment around camp, but it was very different from 
the noisy rollicking of the earlier days. The men 


( 46 ) 


RECRUITS ASSIGNED TO COMPANIES. 


47 


who had something to do were doing it with sys- 
tematic earnestness; the men who had nothing to 
do were getting as much solid comfort and fun as 
the situation afforded. The frothy element among 
officers and men had been rigorously weeded out or 
repressed. All that remained were soldiers in the 
truest sense of the word. The change had been very 
great even since the regiment had lined up for the 
fearful ordeal of Chickamauga. 

''Did you ever see a gang o’ half-baked kids get to 
be men as quick as these boys?” Si asked Shorty. 
"Think o’ the awkward squads that used to be con- 
tinually failin’ over their own feet, and stabbing 
theirselves with their own bayonets.” 

"Seems so,” answered Shorty, "but I don’t know 
that they’ve growed any faster’n we have. Walt 
Slusser, who’s bin Orderly at Headquarters, says 
that he heard Capt. McGillicuddy tell Col. McBiddle 
that he’d never seen men come out as me and you 
had, and he thought we’d make very effective non- 
commish.” 

"Probably we’ve all growed,” Si assented thought- 
fully. "Just think o’ McBiddle as Lieutenant- 
Colonel, in place o’ old Billings. Remember the first 
time we saw McBiddle to know him ? That time he 
was Sergeant o’ the Guard before Perryville, and 
was so gentle and soft-spoken that lots o’ the boys 
fooled themselves with the idee that he lacked sand. 
Same fellers thought that old bellerin’ bull Billings 
was a great fightin’ man. What chumps we all wuz 
that we stood Billings a week.” 

"Wonder if Pm ever goin’ to have a chanst for a 
little private sociable with Billings? Just as I think 


48 


SI KLEGG. 


I’m goin’ to have it, something interferes. Thc.t 
feller’s bin so long ripe for a lickin’ that I’m afraid 
he’ll be completely spiled before my chanst comes.” 

‘‘But I can’t git over missin’ so many familiar 
voices in command, and bearin’ others in their 
places,” said Si. “That battalion drill they wuz 
havin’ as we come in didn’t sound like our rijimint 
at all. I could always tell which was our rijimint 
drillin’ half a mile away by the sound of the voices. 
What a ringin’ voice Capt. Scudder had. It beat the 
bugle. You could hear him sing out, ‘Co. C, on 
right, into line! Forward, guide right — March!’ 
farther’n you could the bugle. The last time I heard 
him wuz as we wuz going up Snodgrass Hill. A 
rebel bullet went through his head just as he said, 
‘March!’ Now, Lieut. Scripps is in command o’ 
Co. C, and he’s got a penny-whistle voice that I can’t 
git used to.” 

“Lieut. Scripps’s a mighty good man. He’ll take 
Co. C as far as Capt. Scudder would.” 

“I know that Scripps’s all right. No discount on 
him. But it don’t seem natural, that’s all. Every 
one o’ the companies except ours has a new man in 
command, and in ours Capt. McGillicuddy’s voice has 
got a different ring to it than before Chickamaugy.” 

“Practicin’ to command the battalion,” suggested 
Shorty. “You know he’ll be Major if McBiddle’s 
made a full Kurnel.” 

“That reminds me,” said Shorty, “that our squad 
o’ recruits’ll probably fill up the rijimint so’s to give 
McBiddle his eagle. They’ll be ’round presently to 
divide up the squad and assign ’em to companies. 
As all the companies is about equally strong, they’ll 


RECRUITS ASSIGNED TO COMPANIES. 


49 


divide ’em equally — that’ll make six and one-half 
boys to each company. Capt. McGillicuddy bein’ the 
senior Captain, is to have first choice. We want to 
pick out the best six and one-half for our company 
and put ’em in one squad at the right or left, and 
give the Captain the wink to choose ’em.” • 

“If we do it’s got to be done mighty slick,” said 
Si. “They’re all mighty good boys, and spunky- 
They’ll all want to go with us, and if they find out 
we’ve made any choice they’ll never forgive us. I’d 
a’most as soon have one six boys as another, yit 
if I had to pick out six I believe I’d take Harry 
Joslyn, Gid Mackall, Alf Russell, Monty Scruggs, 
Jim Humphreys and Sandy Baker.” 

“And Pete Skidmore,” added Shorty. “We’ve got 
to take special care o’ that little rat. Besides, I 
want to. Somehow I’ve took quite a fancy to the 
brat.” 

“Yes, we must take little Pete,” assented Si. “The 
proportion’s six and one-half to a company. He'll 
pass for the half man. But it won’t do to let him 
know it. He thinks he’s as big as any man in the 
rijimint. But how’re we goin’ to fix it not to let 
the other boys know that we’ve picked ’em out?” 

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said Shorty, the man 
of many wiles. “When the boys are drawed up in 
line and Capt. McGillicuddy goes down it to pick 
’em out, you stand at attention, two paces in front, 
facin’ ’em and lookin’ as severe and impartial as a 
judge on the bench. I’ll stand behind you with my 
leg against your’n, this way, and appearintly fixing 
my gun-lock. When Cap comes in front o’ one that 


50 


SI KLEGG. 


we want, yo gi’ me a little hunch with your leg, and 
ril make the lock click.” 

“Splendid idee,” said Si. ‘‘Fll go and post the 
Cap while you git the boys into line.” 

When Shorty returned to the squad he found them 
in feverish excitement about the distribution to the 
different companies. As he and Si had apprehend- 
ed, all were exceedingly anxious to go with them 
into Co. Q, which Si and Shorty had unwittingly 
impressed upon them was the crack company of the 
regiment, and contained the very cream of the men. 
To be assigned to any other company seemed to 
them, if not an actual misfortune, a lack of good 
luck. 

“Nonsense,” Shorty replied to their eager en- 
treaties; “all the companies in the 200th Injianny is 
good, prime, first-class — ^better’n the companies in 
ary other rijimint. You're playin' in great luck to 
git into any one o' 'em, I tell you. You might've 
got into one o' 'em rijimints that' re back there at 
Nashville guardin' fortifications, or one o' 'em that 
lost their colors at Chickamaugy. I'd ruther be the 
tail end o' the 200th Injianny, than the Drum Major 
o' any other.” 

“That's all right,” they shouted. “We're glad 
we're in the 200th Injianny, but we want to be in 
Co. Q.” 

“Well, you can’t all be in Co. Q. Only six and 
one-half of you. The rest’s got to go to other 
companies.” 

“Say, Corpril,” spoke up Harry Joslyn, “you’ll 
see that I git in, won’t you? You know I shot that 
rebel at the burnt bridge.” 


RECRUITS ASSIGNED TO COMPANIES. 


51 


‘‘And didn^t I shoot one, too?” put in Gid Mackall. 
“Just as much as you did. They want tall men in 
the company, don^t they, Corpril? Not little runts.” 

“And didn't I watch the crossing down there at 
the burnt bridge ?” pleaded Jim Humphreys. 



YOU'VE LOST LITTLE PETE. 


“And git scared to death by a nigger huntin' 
coons,” laughed the others. 

“Who kept the rebel from gittin' back to the train 
and settin' it on fire, but me and Sandy Baker?” 
piped up little Pete Skidmore. “Who got lost, and 


52 


SI KLEGG. 


nearly killed by a locomotive. Don’t that count for 
nothin’ ?” 

'‘Boys,” said Shorty, leaning on his musket, and 
speaking with the utmost gravity, “this’s a great 
military dooty and must be performed without fear, 
favor nor affection. I’d like to have you all in Co. 
Q, but this’s a thing ’bout which I hain’t got no say. 
There’s a great many things in the army ’bout which 
a Corpril hain’t as much inflooence as he orter have, 
as you’ll find out later on. Here comes the Captain 
o’ Co. Q, who, because o’ his rank, has the first pick 
o’ the recruits. He’s never seen you before, and 
don’t know one o’ you from Adam’s off-ox. He has 
his own ideas as to who he wants in the company, 
and what he says goes. It may be that the color o’ 
your hair’ll decide him, mebbe the look in your eyes, 
mebbe the shape o’ your noses. ’Tention! Right 
dress ! Front ! Saloot !” 

Capt. McGillicuddy came down at the head of the 
company officers of the regiment, and took a com- 
prehensive survey of the squad. 

“Fine-looking lot of youngsters,” he remarked. 
“They’ll make good soldiers.” 

“Every one o’ them true-blue, all wool and a yard 
wide. Captain,” said Si. 

“You’ll play fair, now. Captain, won’t you, and 
choose for yourself?” said Capt. Scripps. “I’ve no 
doubt they’re all good boys, but there’s a choice in 
good boys, and that Sergeant of yours has learned 
where the choice is. You let him stay back, while 
you go down the line yourself.” 

“Certainly,” replied Capt. McGillicuddy. “Serg’t 
Klegg, stay where you are.” 


RECRUITS ASSIGNED TO COMPANIES. 


53 


Si saluted and took his position, facing the line, 
with a look of calm impartiality upon his face. 
Shorty turned around and backed up to him so that 
the calves of their legs touched, and began intently 
studying his gunlock. 

Capt. McGillicuddy stepped over to the right of 
the line stopped in front of Harry Joslyn and Gid 
Mackall. Shorty full-cocked his j^un with two sharp 
clicks. 

“You two step forward one pace,” said Capt. 
McGillicuddy to the two radiant boys, who obeyed 
with a jump. The Captain walked on down the 
line, carefully scrutinizing each one, but did not 
stop until Shorty’s gun clicked twice, when he was 
in front of Alf Russell and Monty Scruggs. 

“Step forward one pace,” he commanded. 

He proceeded on down the line until he came in 
front of Jim Humphreys and Sandy Baker, when 
Shorty’s gun clicked again. 

“You two step forward one pace,” he commanded. 
“Gentleman, I’ve got my six. The rest are yours.” 

“But you hain’t got me. You’ve lost me,” scream- 
ed Pete Skidmore, dismayed at being separated from 
Sandy Baker. Shorty’s gun clicked again. 

“I believe that there is a fraction of a half a 
man to be distributed around,” the Captain said, 
turning to the other officers. “We agreed to draw 
cuts for that choice. But as that’s the smallest boy 
in the lot I’ll take him for my fraction. I think 
that’s fair. Step forward, there, you boy on the 
left.” 

“All right. Captain,” laughed Capt. Scripps. 
“You’ve got the pick of the men, and I’m glad of it. 


54 


SI KLEGG. 


I know you have, for Tve been watching that Cor- 
poral of yours. I know him of old. I’ve played 
cards too often with Shorty not to keep my eye on 
him whenever he is around. I saw through that 
gun-lock trick.” 

“The trouble with you fellows,” responded Capt. 
McGillicuddy, “is that you are constantly hunting 
around for some reason rather than the real one 
for Co. Q being always ahead of you. It isn’t my 
fault that Co. Q is the best company in the regiment. 
It simply comes natural to the men that make up the 
company. You gentlemen divide up the rest among 
you, and then come down to the sutler’s and we’ll 
talk the matter over. Serg’t Klegg, take these men 
down to the company and have the Orderly provide 
for them.” 

“Hello, awful glad to see you back — and you, too. 
Shorty,” said the busy Orderly-Sergeant, speaking 
in his usual short, snappy sentences, without using 
any more words than absolutely necessary. “We 
need you. Short of non-commish. Two Sergeants 
off on detached duty and two Corporals in hospital. 
Being worked for all we’re worth. Both of you 
look fine. Had a nice, long rest. In great shape 
for work. Pitch in, now, and help me. First, let’s 
get the names of these kids on the roll. Hum- 
phreys — we’ve got two other Humphreys, so you’ll 
answer to Humphreys, 3d. 

“But I don’t want to be with the Humphreys, sir,” 
broke in Jim. “Me and Monty Scruggs” 

“Hold your tongue,” said the Orderly sharply. 
“Don’t interrupt me. If you speak when you’re 
spoken to you’ll do all the talking expected of you. 


RECRUITS ASSIGNED TO COMPANIES. 


55 


Joslyn, you’re after Jones, 3d. M — M — Mackall, you 
come after Lawrence.” 

''But you’ve put me after Joslyn,” protested Gid. 
"He’s never ahead of me.” 

"Shut up,” answered the Orderly. "I do the talk- 
ing for this company. Russell, Scruggs, Skidmore; 
there. I’ve got ’em all down. Si, go down toward 
Co. A and find Bill Stiles and walk him up to the 
guard- tent and leave him there to cool off. He’s 
got his hide full of coffin varnish somewhere, and 
of course wants to settle an old score with that Co. A 
man, who’ll likely knock his head off if he catches 
him. Shorty, go back there to the cook tent and 
shake up those cooks. Give it to them, for they’re 
getting lazier every day. I want supper ready as 
soon’s we come off dress parade. Here, you boys, 
trot along after me to the Quartermaster’s tent, and 
draw your blankets, tents, haversacks and canteens. 
Shorty, as soon’s you’re through with the cooks, go 
to the left of the company and start to fixing up a 
place for these boys’ tents. Si, get back as soon’s 
you can, for I want you to take the squad down after 
rations. Then you’ll have to relieve Jake Warder 
as Sergeant of the Guard, for Jake’s hardly able to 
be around.” 

The Orderly strode off toward the Quartermaster’s 
tent at such a pace that it gave the boys all they 
could do to keep up with him. Arriving there he 
called out sharply to the Quartermaster-Sergeant : 

"Wes, give me seven blankets.” 

That official responded by tossing the required 
number, one after another, counting them as he did 
so. As the Orderly caught them he tossed them to 


56 


SI KLEGG. 


the boys, calling their names. Gid Mackall hap- 
pened to be looking at a battery of artillery when 
his name was called, and received the blanket on 
the back of his neck, knocking him over. 

“ ’Tend to your business, there ; don’t be gawking 
around,” said the Orderly sternly. “Now, Wes, 
seven halves of pup-tents.” 

. These were tossed and counted the same way. 
Then followed canteens, haversacks and tin plates 
and cups. 

“Now, boys, there’s your kits. Give you your guns 
tomorrow. Hurry back to the company street and 
set up those tents on railroad time, for it’s going to 
rain. Jump, now.” 

When they reached Shorty he hustled them around 
to pitch their tents, but he was not fast enough to 
please the Orderly, who presently appeared, with 
the remark: 

“Cesar’s ghost. Shorty, how slow you are. Are 
you going to be all night getting up two or three 
tents? Get a move on you, now, for there’s a rain 
coming up, and besides I want you for something 
else as soon’s you’re through with this?” 

“Who is that man, Corpril?” asked Monty Scruggs, 
as the Orderly left. 

“That’s the Orderly-Sergeant of Co. Q.” 

“Orderly-Sergeant?” repeated Monty dubiously. 
“Who’s he? I’ve heard of Captains, Majors, Colo- 
nels and Generals, but never of Orderly-Sergeants, 
and yit he seems to be bigger’n all of ’em. He has 
more to say, and does more orderin’ around than all 
of ’em put together. He even orders you and Sar- 
jint Klegg. Is he the biggest man in the army?” 


RECRUITS ASSIGNED TO COMPANIES. 


57 


“Well, so far’s you’re concerned and to all general 
purposes he is. You needn’t pay no partickler at- 
tention as a rule to nobody else, but when the Or- 
derly speaks, you jump, and the quicker you jump 
the better it’ll be for you. ' He don’t draw as much 
salary, nor put on as many frills as the bigger fel- 
lers, but you hain’t nothin’ to do with that. You 
kin find fault with the Captain, criticize the Kurnel, 
and lampoon the General, but you don’t want to give 
the Orderly no slack. He’s not to be fooled with. 
Russell, run up there and snatch that spade to dig 
ditches around these tents.” 

“When I enlisted,” Monty confided to Alf Russell, 
“I thought I’d do my best to become a Captain or a 
General. Now, I’m dead anxious to be an Orderly- 
Sarjint.” 


CHAPTER y. 


THE YOUNG RECRUITS ARE GIVEN AN INITIATION INTO 
ARMY LIFE. 

B y the time Shorty had gotten the boys fairly 
tented,. he was ordered to take a squad and 
guard some stores at the Division Quarter- 
master’s. Si, instead of going on camp-guard, had to 
go out to the grand guard. When he came back the 
next morning the Orderly-Sergeant said to him : 

^‘See here. Si, you’ve got to take that squad of kids 
you brung into your particular charge, and lick ’em 
into shape. They need an awful sight of it, and I 
hain’t got any time to give ’em. I’ve something else 
to do besides teaching an infant class. I never was 
good at bringing children up by hand, anyway. I 
ain’t built that way. I want you to go for them 
young roosters at once, and get ’em into shape in 
short meter. Marching orders may come any day, 
and then we want everybody up and dressed. There’ll 
be no time for foolishness. Those dratted little rats 
were all over camp last night, and into more kinds 
of devilment than so many pet crows. I’ve been hear- 
ing about nothing else this morning.” 

'‘Why,” said Si, "I supposed that they was too tired 
to do anything but lay down and go to sleep. What’d 
they do?” 


■ ( 58 ) 


INITIATION INTO ARMY LIFE. 


59 


‘‘Better ask what they didn’t do,” replied the 
Orderly. “They done everything that a passel o’ 
impish school boys could think of, and what they 
couldn’t think of them smart Alecks down in the 



company put ’em up to. I’m going to put some o’ 
them smarties through a course o’ sprouts. I like 
.to see boys in good spirits, and I can enjoy a joke 
with the next man, but there’s such a thing as being 


60 


SI KLEGG. 


too funny. I think a few hours o^ extry fatigue duty 
will reduce their fever for fun.” 

^‘Why, what’d they do?” repeated Si. 

“Well, in the first place, they got that Joslyn and 
Mackall to mark a big number 79 on their tents, and 
then put the same, with their names, on a sheet of 
paper, and take it up to the Captain’s tent. 

“The Captain was having a life-and-death rassle 
with Cap Summerville over their eternal chess, when 
he’s crosser’n two sticks, and liable to snap your 
head olf if you interrupt him. ‘Hello, what do you 
want? What’s this?’ says he, taking the paper. 

“ ‘Them’s our names and addresses,’ says the 
brats, cool as cucumbers. ‘Thought we ought to give 
’em to you, so’s you’d know where to find us, in case 
you wanted us in a hurry, say, at night.’ 

“ ‘The blazes it is,’ says Cap, and Cap Summerville 
roared. ‘You get back to your quarters quick as you 
can run. Don’t worry about my not finding you 
when I want you. It’s my business to find you, and 
I’ve got men to help me do it. I’ll find you sometime 
in a way that’ll make your hair stand up. Get out, 
now, and never come around my tent with any such 
blamed nonsense as that.’ 

“And Cap Somerville took advantage of the break 
to snap up Cap’s queen, which made him hotter’n 
ever. 

“When the boys got back they found them smart 
Alecks, Bob Walsh and Andy Sweeney, waiting for 
’em, and they consoled ’em, saying, ‘That’s just the 
way with that old bull-head. Never’ll take no good 
advice from nobody about running’ the company. 
Thinks he knows it all. You see how he runs the 


INITIATION INTO ARMY LIFE. 


61 


company. He haint got the addresses o^ half his men 
this minnit, and don’t know where they are. That’s 
the reason so many o’ our letters from home, and the 
good things they send us, never reach us. He ought 
to keep a regler directory, same as in the other com- 
panies.’ ” 

'‘Then some o’ them smarties found out that 
Scruggs was stuck on his spouting. Seems that he 
was the star declaimer in his school. They laid it 
in to him that I was soft on hearing poetry spouted, 
especially after night, when the moon was up, and 
everything quiet in camp, and that I was particularly 
tender on ‘Bingen on the Rhine.’ You know that if 
there is anything I’m dead sore on it’s that sniveling 
rot. There used to be a pasty-faced boy in school 
that’d wail that out, and set all the girls to bawling. 
Then they gave us an entertainment just before we 
left, and all the girls were there, and Pasty-Face he 
must be the star attraction. He wailed out his con- 
demned old There-was-a-soldier-of-the Legion — lay- 
dying-i-n-Algiers, and all the girls looked at us as if 
we were already dead, and they’d better look out for 
new beaux. My own particular geranium did not 
lose any time, but married another feller before we 
got to Stone River. That made me hate the blasted 
caterwaul worse’n ever. Then that white-eyed, 
moon-struck Alfonso used to be yowling it at every 
chance, until he went to the hospital, and he got all 
the rest so that they were sputtering rags and tags 
of it. But I’ve been sorer than a bile on the con- 
demned sick calfishness ever since I brung my chum 
Jim Bridgewater off the field at Chickamauga, and 
watched him die as the moon rose, back there at Me- 


62 


SI KLEGG. 


Farland Gap. Well, what do these smarties do but 
fill up Scruggs with the idea that the best way to 
make himself forever solid with me was to stroll 
down close to my tent and casually let off ‘Bingen on 
the Rhine’ in his best style. I’d just got down to 
work on them pesky pay-rolls, having kept Monag- 
han two days in the guard-house, so’s to be sure that 
he’d be sober enough to help me — and you know 
Monaghan’s lightning with the pen when he’s 
sober — when that possessed sap-sucker Scruggs 
began blatting out ‘Bingen on the Rhine’ till you could 
hear* him down to the Colonel’s quarters. It made 
me so mad that I knocked over the ink as I jumped 
up, and spoiled the triplicate rolls that we’d got 
about half made out. I snatched up a club to simply 
mash the bawling brat, but they got him away before 
I could reach ’im. They explained to Scruggs after- 
ward that I was subject to fits whenever the moon 
was in her last quarter, and they’d forgotten to look 
at the almanac that evening. 0, but I’ll soak ’em for 
that yet.” 

“Trouble is,” said Si, laughing, “the boys’ve bin 
layin’ around doin’ nothin’ too long. They’re fuller 
o’ devilment than a dog is of fleas.” 

“But I haint told you half,” continued the Orderly- 
Sergeant. “Them smarties were quick to find out 
that Alf Russell and Jim Humphreys leaned strongly 
toward religion, and they filled ’em with the idea that 
Cap McGillicuddy was a very devout man, and held 
family devotions every evening in his tent, in which 
his company joined.” 

“Great goodness,” gasped Si. “They never heard 


INITIATION INTO ARMY LIFE. 


63 


Gap's remarks when we balked on a right wheel in 
company column.” 

“Well,” continued the Orderly, “Cap had been 
waxed by Cap Summerville two games hand-running, 
and they were nip-and-tuck on the third, and just as 
impatient and cross as they always are when they're 
neck-and-neck in the last heat. The tent-flap raised, 
and in walked Russell and Humphreys soft and 
quietlike, as if they were going into the sitting-room 
for evening prayers. They had their caps in their 
hands, and didn't say anything but brushed their 
hair back and took their seats in the first place they 
could find, which happened to be Cap's cot. Cap 
didn't notice 'em till after Cap Summerville had 
caught his queen and then checkmated him in two 
moves. You know how redhot Cap gets when he 
loses a game of chess, particularly to Cap Summer- 
ville, who rubs it in on him without mercy. 

“Cap looked at the boys in astonishment, and then 
snapped out: 'Well, what do you boys want?' 'We've 
just come in for evening prayers,' says they, mild as 
skimmed milk. 'Evening what?' roared the Cap. 
'Evening prayers,' says they. 'Don't you have family 
devotion every evening? Cap Summerville couldn't 
hold in any longer, and just roared, and the fellers 
outside, who'd had their ears against the canvas 
listening to every word, they roared too. Cap was 
madder'n a July hornet, and cussed till the ridge- 
pole shook. Then he took the two boys by the ears 
and marched 'em out and says: 'You two brats go 
back to your tents and stay there. When I want you 
to come to my tent I'll send for you, and you'll wish 
I hadn't. You'll do praying enough if you're on hand 


64 


SI KLEGG. 


when the church call’s sounded. You’ll be mightily 
different from the rest of my company if you don t 
prefer going on guard to church. Get, now !’ ” 

“Now the Captain oughtn’t to say that about the 
company,” protested Si. “I for one go to church 
every chance I get.” 

“0, yes, you do,” sneered the Orderly-Sergeant. 
“Who was it, I’d like to know, that sent word back 
to the boys in the rear to steal the Chaplain’s horse, 
and keep him hid for a day or two so’s he couldn’t 
get up and hold services, because you boys wanted 
to go fishing in the Tennessee River?” 

“Yes, I did,” Si confessed; “but it was because the 
boys begged me to. We’d just got there, and it looked 
as if the biting was good, and we probably wouldn’t 
stay there longer’n over Sunday.” 

“Well, I aint done yet,” continued the Orderly- 
Sergeant. “That little snipe, Pete Skidmore” 

“Good gracious, he wasn’t lost again, was he?” 
gasped Si. 

“That’s just what he was, the little runt, and we 
had the devil’s own time finding him. What in Sam 
Hill did the Captain take him for. I’d like to know? 
Co. Q aint no nursery. Well, the bugler up at Brigade 
Headquarters blowed some sbrt of a call, and Skid- 
more wanted to know what it meant. They told him 
that it was an order for the youngest man in each 
company to come up there and get some milk for 
his coffee tomorrow morning, and butter for his 
bread. There was only enough issued for the young- 
est boys, and if he wanted his share he’d have to get 
a big hustle on him, for the feller whose nose he’d 
put out o’ joint ’d try hard to get there ahead o’ him. 


INITIATION INTO ARMY LIFE. 


65 


and get his share. So Skidmore went off at a dead 
run toward the sound of the bugle, with the boys 
looking after him and snickering. But he didn’t 
come back at roll-call, nor at tattoo, and the smart 
Alecks begun to get scared, and abuse each other for 
setting up a job on a poor, innocent little boy. Osc 
Brewster and 01 Perry, who had been foremost in 
the trick had a fight as to which had been to blame. 
Taps come, and he didn’t get back, and then we all 
became scared. I’d sent Jim Hunter over to Brigade 
Headquarters to look for him, but he came back, and 
said they hadn’t seen anything of him there. Then 
I turned out the whole company to look for him. Of 
course, them too-awfully smart galoots of Co. A had 
to get very funny over our trouble. They asked why 
we didn’t get the right kind of nurses for our com- 
pany, that wouldn’t let the members stray out of 
their sight? Why we didn’t call the children in when 
the chickens went to roost, undress ’em, and tuck 
’em in their little beds, and sing to ’em after they’d 
said ‘Now I lay me down to sleep?’ I stood it all 
until that big, hulking Pete Nasmith came down with 
a camp-kettle, which he was making ring like a bell, 
as he yelled out, ‘Child lost! Child lost!’ Behind 
him was Tub Rawlings singing, ‘Empty’s the cradle, 
baby’s gone.’ Then I pulled off my blouse and slung 
it into my tent, and told ’em there went my chevrons, 
and I was simply Scott Ralston, and able to lick any 
man in Co. A. One o’ their Lieutenants came out 
and ordered them back to their quarters, and I 
deployed the company in a skirmish-line, and started 
’em through the brush toward Brigade Headquarters. 
About three-quarters o’ the way Osc Brewster and 
01 Perry, when going through a thicket, heard a boy 


.3 


66 


SI KLEGG. 


boo-hooing. They made their way to him, and there 
was little Skidmore sitting on a stump, completely 
confused and fagged out. He’d lost his way, and the 
more he tried to find it the worse he got turned 
around. They called out to him, and he blubbered 
out : ‘Yes, it’s me ; little Pete Skidmore. Them dod- 
durned fools in my company ’ve lost me, just as I’ve 
bin tellin’ ’em right along they would, durn ’em.’ 
Osc and 01 were so tickled at finding him that they 
gathered him up, and come whooping back to camp, 
carrying him every step of the way.” 

“Well, I declare to gracious,” ejaculated Si. “But 
there’s one left yet. Didn’t anything happen to 
Sandy Baker?” 

“0, yes,” groaned the Orderly. “He had to be in 
it, too. He took advantage of the tumult to fall into 
the company well. We didn’t know anything about 
it till we come back from hunting Skidmore. By that 
time he was so chilled that he could hardly holler any 
more, and his teeth chattered like a nigger minstrel’s 
bones. I’d got a can of brandied peaches down at 
the sutler’s, and it took all the brandy to bring him 
around, and I had nothing left but the peaches. Now, 
while I like a little variety in camp-life as well as the 
next man, I don’t want no more ructions like last 
night’s. I’ll put you in charge of those kids, and hold 
you responsible for ’em. I don’t care what you do 
with ’em, so long’s you keep ’em quiet, and don’t dis- 
turb the company. Kill ’em, if you want to, but keep 
’em quiet. I’ve got to finish up them pay-rolls 
tonight.” 

“You bet me and Shorty’ll stop these smart Alecks 
from imposin’ on the poor little greenies,” 
asserted Si. 


CHAPTER VI. 


SI KLEGG PUTS HIS AWKWARD SQUAD THROUGH ITS 
FIRST DRILL. 

44T^UESS,” thought Si, as he left the Orderly- 
J[ Sergeant, and walked down the company 
street to the left, '‘that the best way to begin 
is to get them little whelps into an awkward squad, 
and give 'em an hour or two o' sharp drillin'. That’ll 
introduce 'em to the realities o’ soljerin’." 

It was a warm, bright March day, with the North 
Georgia mountains rapidly robing themselves in 
fresh green, to welcome the coming Spring. The 
effervescent boys had entirely forgotten the worries 
of the previous night, and were frolicking in the 
bright sunshine as if “out-at-recess” from school. 

Mackall, Joslyn, Humphreys and Baker had gotten 
hold of a ball, and were having a game of “two-cor- 
nered cat," with noise enough for a whole school 
play-ground. Russell and Scruggs were running a 
foot-race, for the entertainment of a squad of cooks 
and teamsters, and little Pete Skidmore was giving 
an exhibition before the same audience of his ability 
to stand on his head, and turn somersaults. 

“Little thought they have of the seriousness of 
war," thought Si, with a shrug of his shoulders, as 
he yelled out: 


( 67 ) 


68 


SI KLEGG. 


'‘Come, boys, fall in here.’' 

When the boys had first come under Si’s command 
they regarded him as one of the greatest men in the 
army. In their shadowy notions of military matters 
they rather thought that he stood next to the great 
Generals whose names filled all mouths. These ideas 
had been toppled into dust by their arrival in camp, 
and seeing so many different men order him around. 
They felt ashamed of themselves that they had ever 
mistaken him for a great man, and put him up on a 
pedestal. That is the way with boys. They resent 
nothing more sharply than the thought of their hav- 
ing been deceived into honoring somebody or some- 
thing unworthy of honor. They can stand anything 
better than a reflection upon their shrewdness and 
judgment. 

"Hear Klegg a-calling?” said Joslyn, pausing for 
an instant, with the ball in his hand. 

"Let him call,” said Mackall, indifferently, finish- 
ing his run to base. "He ain’t big boss no more. He’s 
only the lowest Sergeant in the company. Throw the 
ball, Harry. You must do better’n you’ve been doing. 
We’re getting away with you.” 

"Fall in here, boys, I tell you,” said Si so sternly 
that Pete Skidmore stopped in his handspring, but 
seeing the bigger boys making no move to obey, 
decided that it would be improper for him to show 
any signs of weakness, and he executed his flip-flap. 

"Here, you’re out, Gid. Gi’ me the bat,” shouted 
Harry Joslyn, as he caught the ball which Mackall 
had vainly struck at. 

Si strode over to the group, snatched the bat from 


AWKWARD SQUAD. 


69 


Harry’s hand, spanked him with it, and started for 
the others of the group. 

‘‘Say, you musn’t hit that boy,” exclaimed Gid, 
jumping on Si’s back. Gid was as ready to fight for 
Harry as to fight with him. The others rushed up, 
school boy like, to defend their companion against 
“the man,” and little Pete Skidmore picked up a 
stone and adjusted it for throwing. 

“Why, you little scamps you,” gasped Si in amaze- 
ment. “What’d you mean? Ain’t you goin’ to obey 
my orders ?” 

“You haint no right to give us orders no more,” 
asserted Humphreys, fiourishing his bat defiantly. 
“You’re only an enlisted man, same as the rest o’ us. 
They told us so, last night, and that we mustn’t let 
you impose on us, as you’d bin doin’. Only the Cap- 
tain and the Colonel command us. We’ve bin posted. 
And if you dare hit any o’ us we’ll all jump on you 
and maul your head offen you.” 

The rest looked approval of Jim’s brave words. 

“We’re goin’ to strike for our altars and our fires. 
Strike for the green graves of our sires.. God and 
our native land,” declaimed Monty Scruggs. 

The waspish little mutiny was so amusing that Si 
had to smile in spite of himself. With a quick, unex- 
pected movement he snatched the bat from Jim 
Humphreys’ hand, and said good-humoredly : 

“Now, boys, you mustn’t make fools of yourselves 
agin’. Stop this nonsense at once, I tell you. I’m 
just as much your commandin’ officer as I ever was.” 

“How can you be a commanding officer, when 
everybody else bosses you about?” persisted the 
argumentative Monty Scruggs. “Everybody that 


70 


SI KLEGG. 


t 

comes near you orders you around, just the same as 
you used to us, and you mind ’em. That ain’t no way 
for a commanding officer. We don’t want anybody 
bossing us that everybody else bosses.” 

'‘Well, that’s the way o’ the army,” Si explained 
patiently, "and you’ve got to git used to it. ’Most 
everybody bosses somebody else. The President tells 
Gen. Grant what he wants done. Gen. Grant orders 
Gen. Thomas to do it. Gen. Thomas orders a Major- 
General. The Major-General orders a Brigadier- 
General. The Brigadier-General orders our Colonel. 
Our Colonel orders Cap McGillicuddy. Cap McGilli- 
cuddy orders the Orderly-Sarjint, the Orderly-Sar- 
jint orders me, and I command you.” 

"Why, it’s worse’n ‘The-House-That- Jack-Built,’ ” 
said Monty Scruggs. 

"Well, you needn’t learn all of it,” said Si. "It’s 
enough for you to know that I command you. That’s 
the A B C of the business, and all you need know. A 
man in the army gits into trouble offen by knowin’ 
too much. You git it well into your craws that I 
command you, ^nd that you’ve got to do just as I say, 
and I’ll do the rest o’ the knowin’ that you need.” 

"But how’re we to know that you’re right every 
time,” argued Monty Scruggs. 

"Well,” explained the patient Si, "if you’ve any 
doubts, go to the Orderly-Sarjint. If he don’t satisfy 
you, go to the Captain. If you have doubts abou. 
him, carry it to the Colonel. If you’re still in doubt, 
refer it to the Brigadier-General, then to the Major- 
General, to Gen. Thomas, Gen. Grant, and lastly to 
the President of the United States.” 

"Great goodness !” they gasped. 


AWKWARD SQUAD. 


71 


“But the less you bother your heads with Captains 
and Curnels and Generals the better you’ll git along. 
The feller that’s right over you — in arm’s length o’ 
you all the time — is the feller that you’ve got to look 
out for sharply. I’m him. Now I want you to form 
in two ranks quicker’n scat, and ’tend to business. 
I’m goin’ to drill you. Gid Mackall, take your place 
there. Harry Joslyn, stand behind him.” 

The old squabbles as to precedence immediately 
broke out between Gid and Harry, which Si impa- 
tiently ended by snatching Harry by the collar and 
yanking him behind Gid, with the wrathful Harry 
protesting that he intended carrying the matter up 
through the whole military hierarchy, even to the 
President of the United States, if necessary. He did 
not come into the army to be run over. 

“You came into the army to do just as I tell you, 
and you’ll do it. Silence in the ranks,” commanded 
Si. “Humphreys, stand next to Mackall. Scruggs, 
stand behind Humphreys.” 

“Why do you put one man behind another?” 
queried Monty Scruggs. “I don’t think that’s right. 
Jim’s big head’ll be forever in my way, so’s I can’t 
see anything. Why don’t you put us out in one line, 
like a class in school? Then everybody’s got the 
same show.” 

“I didn’t make the tactics. Git into your places,” 
snapped Si. 

“Well, I don’t think much of a teacher that can’t 
explain what he’s teaching,” mumbled Monty, as he 
reluctantly obeyed. 

“Now, Russell, stand next to Humphreys; Baker, 


72 


SI KLEGG. 


stand behind Russell; Skidmore, stand next to Rus- 
sell.” 

‘‘Goody, I’m in the front rank,” giggled little Pete, 
and Harry Joslyn looked as if here was another case 
of favoritism that he would have to call the Presi- 
dent’s attention to. 

“Now,” commanded Si, “put your heels together, 
turn your toes out, stand erect, draw your stomachs 
in” 

“Look here, Jim Humphreys,” grumbled Monty 
Scruggs, “when he told you to draw your stomach in 
he didn’t mean for you to stick your hips out till you 
bumped me over into the next Township. I’ve got to 
have room to stand here, as well as you.” 

“Silence in the ranks,” commanded Si. “Draw 
your stomachs in, put your little fingers down to the 
seams of your pantaloons”^ 

“You mean the middle finger, don’t you?” queried 
Monty Scruggs. “That’s more natural way of stand- 
ing.” 

“No, I mean the little finger,” asserted Si. 

“But the middle finger is more natural,” persisted 
Monty. “You can’t stand straight with your little 
finger at the seam. See here.” 

“Scruggs, do as I say, without no words,” said Si, 
and then Monty’s face took on an expression of 
determination to carry the matter to a higher court. 

“Now, keep your faces straight to the front, and 
at the command ‘Right dress !’ turn your eyes, with- 
out moving your heads, until you kin see the buttons 
on the breast of the second man to the right. ‘Right 
dress !’ ” 


AWKWARD SQUAD. 


73 


“There's no man on my right for me to look to- 
ward. What 'm I to do?" complained Gid Mackall. 
“There, you see what come o' putting him in 

front," exulted Harry Joslyn. “Now, if I'd bin'' 

“Say, I can't see up to Jim Humphreys’ big breast 



“DRAW YOUR STOMACHS IN." 


without twistin’ my neck nearly off," murmured little 
Pete Skidmore. “Can’t you make him scrooch a 
• little? Jest see him swell up.” 

“What’s the use o' linin' on a feller that can’t 
stand still a second?" complained the others. 


74 


SI KLEGG. 


'‘Great Scott, what a line,^^ groaned Si, walking 
along, shoving the boys back, and twisting them 
around, to get them straight. “Crooked as a 
pumpkin vine in a cornfield. Here, I told you not 
to turn your heads, but only your eyes. If you snipes 
wouldn’t gab so much, but listen to what I say, you’d 
git along better. Silence in ranks. Now, try it over 
again. F'aces straight to the front. Eyes cast to the 
right, until they catch the buttons on the breast of 
the second man. Right dress !” 

“Great grief,” sighed he, looking at the result. 
“You wriggle about like so many eels. Might as well 
try to line up so many kittens. Won’t you straighten 
up and keen straight?” Then came a renewal of the 
noisy discussion, with mutual blaming of one 
another. 

Si picked up a stick and drew a line in the ground. 
“Now bring your toes to that line, and keep ’em 
there.” 

“Shall we take that scratch along with us as we 
march, or will you draw another one for us as we 
need it?” Monty Scruggs asked, at which the other 
boys laughed, which did not improve Si’s temper. It 
was long, hard w^ork before he got the restless, talk- 
ative young fellows so that they would form a fairly 
straight line, and maintain it for a minute or two. 

He looked at them, wiped his perspiring brow, and 
remarked internally: 

“Well, I thought them was bright boys, that it’d 
be no trouble to drill. I’d ruther break in the stoopid- 
est lot o’ hayseeds that ever breathed, rather than 
boys that think they know more’n I do. Now I’m 


AWKWARD SQUAD. 


75 


goin’ to have the time o' my life learnin' 'em the 
right face." 

He began the explanation of that complicated 
manuver : 

“Now, I want every one o' you to stop talkin', 
gether up them scatter-fire brains o' your'n, and pay 
strict 'tention to every word I say" 

“Harry Joslyn," broke in Gid, “if you tramp on my 
heels just one more time. I'll knock your head off. 
I've told you often enough." 

“Well, you just keep offen my toes with them rock- 
grinders o' your'n," Harry retorted. 

“Silence in ranks," commanded Si. “Each rank 
will count twos." 

“What are twos? Where are they, and how many 
of 'em do you want us to count?" asked Monty 
Scruggs, at which the other boys snickered. They 
were getting very tired of the drill, and in the humor 
to nag and balk the drillmaster. Si lost a trifle of his 
temper, and said: 

“You're too all-fired smart with your tongue, 
Scruggs. If you were only half as smart learnin' 
your business" 

“Sergeant," said one of the Lieutenants who hap- 
pened to be passing, “keep your temper. You'll get 
along better. Don't squabble with your men." 

This made the boys much worse. 

“What I mean by countin' twos," explained Si, “is 
that the man on the right in each rank shall count 
one, the next one, two ; the next one, one and so on. 
Count twos !" 

They made such an exasperating muddle of it, that 
Si almost had a fit. The cooks, teamsters and other 


76 


SI KLEGG. 


hangers-on saw the trouble and came flocking around 
with all manner of jesting remarks and laughter, 
which strained Si’s temper to the utmost, and 
encouraged the boys in their perversity. Si curbed 
himself down, and laboriously exemplified the man- 
ner of counting until the boys had no excuse for not 
understanding it. 

“Now, said he, at the command ‘Right face,’ the 
No. 1 man in the front rank faces to the right and 
stand fast” 

“What do the rest of us do?” they chorused. 

“The rest o’ you chase yourselves around him,” 
said a humorist among the cooks, while the others 
laughed uproariously. 

“Shut up, you pot-wrastlers,” said Si wrathfully. 
“If I hear another word from you, I’ll light into you 
with a club. Now you brats” 

“Sergeant,” admonished the Lieutenant, “you 
mustn’t use such language to your men.” 

This made Si angrier, and the boys more can- 
tankerous. Si controlled himself to go on with his 
explanations in a calm tone : 

“No 1 in the front rank will face to the right, and 
stand fast, and take a side step to the right. Each 
No. 2 will face to the right, and take on oblique side 
step to the right to place himself on the right hand 
of his No. 1 man.” 

“Say that all again. Sergeant,” asked Monty 
Scruggs. 

Si patiently repeated the explanation. 

“Now sing it to the tune of ‘When this Cruel War 
is Over,’ called out the cook-humorist. 

“Right face,” commanded Si. 


AWKWARD SQUAD. 


77 


A roar went up from the camp-follower audience 
at the hopeless tangle which ensued. No two of the 
boys seemed to have done the same thing. Several 
had turned to the left, and all were sprinting around 
in various ways in a more or less genuine pretense 
of executing the order. Meanwhile the news that 
Si's squad of recruits were having fun with him 
spread through the camp, and a crowd gathered to 
watch the performance and give their jeering advice 
in that characteristic soldierly way when they see a 
comrade wrestling with a perplexing job. 

“Git a bushel basket, and gather ’em up in it.” 

“Tie straw around their left feet, and hay around 
their right ones, so’s they’ll know ’em.” 

“Back ’em up agin’ a rail fence and git ’em into 
line;” were among the freely offered suggestions. 
Si was sweating all over, and so angry that he had 
to stolidly bite his words off, one at a time, to keep 
from showing his temper. To add to his troubles, 
he saw the Colonel, of whom he stood in proper awe, 
become interested in the crowd and the shouting, and 
stroll down from his tent to see what the excitement 
was. 

“As you were,” Si commanded, steadying his voice 
with a great effort. “Every one of you git back as I 
placed you. Right dress !” 

To his wonderment they formed as good a line as 
veterans could have done. They heard a whisper 
that the Colonel was coming, and it sobered them. 

“Right face !” commanded Si. 

They all faced to the right and stepped into their 
places without an error. 


78 


SI KLEGG. 


‘‘Front !” commanded Si, and they returned to two 
ranks. 

“Ah, Sergeant,'' said the Colonel, kindly, as he 
made his way through the respectfully opened, salut- 
ing crowd. “Giving your men their first drill, are 
you? Well, you are getting along remarkably well 
for recruits. I saw that last movement, and it was 
very well done, indeed. You've got some very nice- 
looking boys there, and I think they'll be a credit to 
the regiment." 

“Saved by the skin o' my teeth," gasped Si to him- 
self, as the Colonel strolled on. “Now, you young 
roosters, I see that you kin do it whenever you want 
to, and you've got to want to after this. A boy that 
don't want to I'll take down to the branch there, and 
hold his head under water till he does want to. I'm 
goin' to stay with you until you learn the drill dead 
letter perfect. You can't git rid of me. You'll save 
trouble by rememberin' that. Now we'll go back for 
supper. Right face — forward — file left — March !" 


CHAPTER VII. 


SHORTY'S HEART TURNS TOWARD MARIA, AND HE 
FINALLY GETS A LETTER FROM HER. 

A fter the flush of excitement of returning to 
his old regiment and meeting his comrades — 
after the process of readjusting himself to 
the changed relations made by death, wounds, dis- 
charges, resignations and promotions — after the 
days had brought a settling back into the old routine 
of camp-life, there developed in Shorty’s heart grow- 
ing homesickness for Maria Klegg. 

At least that was what it seemed to him. He did 
not exactly know what homesickness was from per- 
sonal experience, as he had never really had a home. 
But he had seen thousands of boys more or less 
affected by that obscure but stubborn and dangerous 
malady, and had noted their symptoms, which 
strongly resembled his own. 

Somehow, the sun only shone with real brightness 
and warmth over the pleasant homes and fertile 
fields of Posey County, Ind. Somehow, women had a 
fairness and sweetness there denied to their sex else- 
where, and somehow the flower of them all was a 
buxom maiden of 20 dwelling under the roof of 
Deacon Klegg. 

Shorty appreciated very properly the dignity and 


( 79 ) 


80 


SI KLEGG. 


responsibilities of his two stripes. He was going to 
be the model Corporal of the regiment, and give all 
the rest a copy which they could follow to advantage. 
Of all the Corporals he had ever known, Si Klegg had 
come nearest his ideas as to what a Corporal should 
be, but even Si had his limitations. He would show 
him some improvements. So shorty bent his mind 
upon the performance of everything pertaining to 
the Corporalcy with promptness and zeal. He even 
set to studying the Regulations and Tactics — at least 
those paragraphs relating to Corporals and their 
duties — where heretofore he had despised ‘‘book- 
soldiering,’' and relied on quick observation and 
“horse sense” to teach him all that was worth know- 
ing. But his stay in the Deacon’s home showed him 
that they esteemed “book-knowledge” even in com- 
mon things as of much value, and he began to have 
a new respect for that source of instruction. 

Even through the pressure of official duties and 
responsibilities there would steal, like the wafting 
of a sweet song to the ears of the reapers in a hot 
field, thoughts of the coolness, the beauty and the 
peace of that quiet home on the Wabash, with one 
flower-faced girl, with white, soft arms, going about 
her daily tasks, singing with such blithe cheeriness 
that even the birds stopped to listen to a sweeter note 
than theirs. Some subtle fragrance from her seemed 
to be with him wherever he was, and whatever he 
might be doing. When, as the tallest Corporal in Co. 
Q, he stood on the right of the company, on drill and 
dress parade, and made the others “dress” on him, 
he wished that Maria Klegg could only see how 
straight the line was, and how soldierly the boys 


SHORTY GETS A LETTER. 


81 


looked. When the Colonel personally selected him 
to command the squad which was to escort the Pay- 
master through a dangerous part of the country, he 
would have given much had Maria known of the 



trust reposed in him. And when, as Corporal of the 
Guard, he suppressed in his usual summary way a 
.noisy row among the teamsters and cooks, he was 
very glad that Maria did not hear the remarks that 


82 


SI KLEGG. 


a Corporal always thinks necessary to make on such 
occasions. Shorty did not swear with the fluent ease 
of before his visit to the Klegg homestead, but a 
little excitement gave the old looseness to his tongue. 
And when he sat around the guard-fire, he would 
refuse to be drawn into any '‘little games,’' but turn 
his back upon the chattering crowd, and furtively 
draw from his breast-pocket the remnant of Maria’s 
dress, and feel it, and muse over it, until aroused by 
the call : 

“Corporal of the Guard, Post No. 14. I want a ^ 
drink o’ water.” 

Shorty began to watch for Si’s mail a good deal 
more anxiously than that worthy did. He managed 
to go by the Chaplain’s tent whenever duty took him 
in that part of the camp, and sometimes when it did 
not, and inquire if there was any mail there for Si. 
One day he was rewarded by the Chaplain handing 
him two letters. His heart beat a little quicker by 
seeing that they were both postmarked Bean Blossom 
Creek. The smaller — a white envelope, superscribed 
in Annabel’s cramped little hand — he thrust indiffer- 
ently into his pocket, and the larger — a fat, yellow 
envelope, covered with the good Deacon’s massive 
crow-tracks, and securely fastened by a dab of seal- 
ing wax, pressed down with a cent — he studied with 
tender interest. It had come directly from her 
home — from her father. It probably told something 
about her. 

It seemed as if there was something of the per- 
fume of her presence about it. Possibly she had 
carried it to the station and mailed it. He turned 
it over gently, studied every detail, and fixed his eyes 


SHORTY GETS A LETTER. 


83 


upon it, as if he would make them pierce the thick, 
strong paper and devour the contents. Then it 
occurred to him that the better and quicker way to 
get at the inside would be to deliver the letters to Si. 
So he hunted up his partner, whom he found about 
to take his squad out for a turn at wagon guarding. 

Si looked pleased as he recognized his father’s 
letter, but his face flushed to the roots of his sandy 
hair at the sight of Annabel’s. He put the latter 
carefully in his pocket. It was too sweet and sacred 
a thing to be opened and read under the gaze of any 
one else’s eyes. He broke open his father’s and as his 
eyes traveled slowly down the large foolscap pages, 
covered with the Deacon’s full-grown characters, for 
the Deacon made his letters as he liked his stock — 
big and full — he said : 

^‘They’re all well at home, but mother’s had a tech 
of her old rheumatiz. Pap’s sold his wheat at a dol- 
lar and four bits. Peaches about half killed. Had 
good luck with his lambs. Wheat’s lookin’ unusually 
well. Beck Spangler’s married Josh Wilson, whose 
wife died last Fall, leavin’ him two little children. 
Brindle cow’s come in fresh, with a nice calf, quarter 
Jersey. Copperhead’s gittin’ sassy agin. Holdin’ 
night meetin’s and wearin’ butternut badges, and 
talkin’ about resistin’ draft. Hogs wintered well, 
and looks as if Pap’d have a nice drove to sell in the 
Fall. Pap’ll put in ’bout 90 acres o’ corn, and’ll have 
to hustle his plowin’ ez soon’s the ground’s fit. Little 
Sammy Woggles had a fight with Beecham’s boy, 
who’s six months older, and licked him. Sammy 
likes school better now than he did. Pap’s bought 
Abraham Lincoln a new suit o’ store clothes and the 


84 


SI KLEGG. 


girls have made him some white shirts. He goes to 
church every Sunday now, and carries a cane. Pap 
sends his regards to you, Shorty, and mother and the 
girls want to be kindly remembered. There, take the 
letter. Shorty, and read it for yourself. Fve got to 
skip out with my squad.” 

Shorty took the letter with eagerness, and retired 
to a nook to read it all over carefully, and see if he 
could not mayhap glean out of it something more 
relating to Her. But the main satisfaction was in 
reading again and again “Mother and the girls want 
to be kindly remembered to Shorty.” 

“Not uncomfortably warm, and purty general, like 
the gal who promised to be a sister to the hull riji- 
mint,” mused Shorty, as he refolded the letter and 
replaced it in the envelope. “But, then, it is better 
to be kindly remembered by sich people as them than 
to be slobbered over by anybody else in the world. 
Wisht I knowed jest how much o’ the kind remem- 
brance was Maria’s, and if it differed in any way 
from her mother’s and sister’s ?” 

The next evening the Orderly-Sergeant handed 
Shorty a badly-thumb-marked and blotted yellow 
envelope, on which was scrawled in a very schoolish 
hand : 

“To Mister Corpril Elliott, 

“Co. Q, Two Hundred Injianny Volintears, 

“Chattynoogy, 10-S-E.” 

Opening it he read: 

Mister Shortee 

U ar a Frawd ! ! ! That’s what U ar ! ! ! 

Whairz mi Gunn?????? 


SHORTY GETS A LETTER. 85 

U ar a long-shanked, brick-topt Frawd & a promis- 
braker ! ! ! 

Whairz mi Gunn??? 

U hav now bin away a hole month, & I haint seen 
no Gunn! 

Awl the boiz is makin fun ov Me, bekaws I blowed 
around bout the Gunn I waz going 2 git, & I didn’t 
git none. 

Whairz mi Gunn??? 

I likked Ans. Beechum till he hollered nuff, for 
teezin Me bout mi Gunn. That’s quiled the other boiz. 

But I want mi Gunn! 

I have just lots & Gobs 2 tell U, bout what Maria’s 
bin sayin bout yore saffron head, but I shant write 
a word till I git mi Gunn ! 

I wont tell U how the girls is pleggin her bout her 
Big Sunflower till I git mi Gunn ! 

If U doant send mi Gunn rite off He tel Maria 
everything I no. 

I tel U now. He spile yore fun 

Onless at once U send mi Gunn. 

Yores til deth, 

SAMUEL WOGGLES. 

The reception of this perturbed Shorty to his 
depths. He had not forgotten his promise to Sam- 
my — merely postponed its execution under the pres- 
sure of other engrossments. He reproached himself 
for not remembering how eagerly the boy had been 
looking forward to a possession which would make 
him the envy of the other boys — really hated by them 
for his towering and undeserved fortune. 

''And Maria and the girls is talkin’ about me,” he 


86 


SI KLEGG. 


communed with himself. “I knowed that my left 
ear hadn’t bin burnin’ ever since we crossed the Ohio 
River for nothin’. I thought it was because it’d got 
so tender layin’ on pillers that the blankets chafed 
it. Now I understand it. And I can’t hear nothin’ 
of what they’ve bin sayin’ till I git that gun to Sam- 
my. I’ll start it to him this day, if it takes a leg. I’d 
intended to go over to the camp o’ the Maumee Musk- 
rats today, on a missionary tower with them new 
tricks I brung back with me, but I’ll put in the time 
gittin’ Sammy’s gun and shippin’ it to him. Wonder 
where I kin pick up a rebel musket and trimmins’ ?” 

Shorty did not find this so easy as he had antici- 
pated. Generally, rebel guns had been a drug in the 
market. They could be found lying around camp 
almost anywhere, and were used for any purpose 
to which they could be applied — poles to hang kettles 
on over the fire, tent-sticks, revetments to hold the 
dirt back, or any other use. But under the rigid sys- 
tem now prevailing in Sherman’s camps everything 
had to be accounted for, and every gun sufficiently 
serviceable to be worth sending to Sammy had been 
gathered up and stored away in a large shed. Shorty 
went down there and scrutinized the armory. There 
were plenty of guns in there, any one of which would 
make Sammy’s heart leap for joy, and render him 
the object of the burning envy of all the boys for 
miles around. But there were guards pacing around, 
and they looked watchful. Still, if the night were 
dark he might slip in and steal one. But somehow 
since he had known Maria there had risen in his 
mind a repugnance to that way of procuring things. 
It was not in accordance with Klegg ideas. He sat 


SHORTY GETS A LETTER. 


87 


down and pondered on other methods. He went over 
and talked to the Sergeant in charge, an old 
acquaintance, but the Sergeant was obdurate.^ 

“No, sir. Can’t let one of ’em go on no account,” 
said the Sergeant firmly. “My Captain’s in charge 
of ’em, and he’s put me in charge. He knows he can 
trust me, and I know that he can. He don’t know 
how many, guns and bayonets and cartridge-boxes 
there are, but I do, for I counted them first thing 
when I come on. I don’t propose that he shall have 
to have any shortage charged against him when he 
comes to settle his accounts. I don’t know whether 
they’ve got an account of the things at Headquar- 
ters, but they’re likely to have, and I’m not taking 
any risks. I’m looking out for my Captain.” 

“But suppose I pay you the value of the blamed 
old blunderbuss,” said Shorty, as a desperate resort, 
for it was the first time that he had ever thought of 
a rebel gun having a money value. 

“I wouldn’t take it,” replied the Sergeant. “First 
place, I haint no idea what they’re worth. Next 
place, if I had, I wouldn’t take it, for I don’t want 
any shortage in Cap’s accounts. Thirdly, if I 
took the money I’d like as not set into a game o’ 
poker tonight and lose it, and then where’d I be, and 
where’d Cap be? I’ve been having monstrous hard 
luck at poker lately.” 

“That’s because you ain’t up to the latest kinks,” 
said Shorty, hopefully. “I’ve been back to the rear — 
just come from Jeffersonville — and I’ve got on to a 
lot of new dodges. I’ll show ’em all to you for one 
o’ them guns.” 


88 


SI KLEGG. 


The waver in the Sergeant’s face showed the 
temptation was a trying one, but he answered firmly : 

“No; I won’t do it.” 

“I’ll put*up a $10 bill agin one o’ the guns, play 
you two out o’ three for it, learn you the tricks, and 
give you back the money if I win,” said Shorty des- 
perately. 

Again the Sergeant’s face showed great irresolu- 
tion, but again his fidelity triumphed, and he 
answered firmly, “No I won’t.” Then he softened his 
refusal by saying : 

“Come, Shorty, walk over a little way with me. I 
know where we can get something good.” 

After they had shared a tincupful of applejack 
that a teamster supplied them the Sergeant’s heart 
thawed out a little. 

“I tell you. Shorty, there’s a gun in there that’d 
just tickle your boy to death. It’s an Enfield, new 
one, and has a Yankee bullet sticking in the butt. 
Must’ve knocked the Johnny a double somersault 
when it struck. I’ve been thinkin’ sending it home 
myself. But I’ll let you have it, and I’ll tell you 
you how you can get it. See that camp over there? 
Well, that’s a regiment being organized out o’ Ten- 
nessee refugees. They and their officers are the 
carelessest lot of galoots that ever lived. Their 
Quartermaster stores and their Commissary stores, 
and everything they have is allowed to lie around 
loose, just wherever they get the notion to drop 
them. I’ve had my eye on ’em for several days, 
and’ve helped several of my friends to straighten up 
their company accounts, and replace things that 
they’d lost. You just waltz over there, careless like, 


SHORTY GETS A LETTER. 


89 


as if you belonged to the regiment, pick up a gun and 
traps, put 'em on, and sail back here, and I’ll turn 
your things in, and give you that gun with the bullet 
in the stock in exchange.” 

Shorty lost no time in acting on* the advice. That 
afternoon the express from Chattanooga carried a 
gun to Sammy Woggles, the contemplation of which 
deprived that youth of sleep the night after he 
received it, and won him the cordial hatred of every 
boy in his neighborhood for his overweening pride. 

But after the gun was gone, and after Shorty had 
written a laborious letter, informing Sammy of the 
shipment of the gun and its history, which letter 
inclosed a crisp greenback, and was almost as urgent 
in injunctions to Sammy to write as Sammy had 
been about his piece of ordnance. Shorty sat down 
in sadness of heart. He was famishing for informa- 
tion from Maria, and at the lowest calculation he 
could not hope for a letter from Sammy for two 
weeks. 

^Tt’ll take at least a week for that little rat to git 
over his fever about that gun,” he mused, ‘'until he’ll 
be able to set up and think about anything else. Then 
it’ll take him at least another week to build a letter. 
Great Jehosephat, how’m I goin’ to stand it till then? 
Where’ll I be two weeks from now ? What kin I do ? 
I a’most wish that something’d happen to Si that’d 
give me an excuse for writin’.” 

He racked his fertile brain with expedients and 
devices for getting up communication, but for once 
he had to reject them all. There was a halo of unap- 
proachableness about Maria Klegg that paralyzed 
him. 


90 


SI KLEGG. 


He awoke the next morning with the same anxiety 
gnawing at his heart, and it haunted him so that he 
went through the morning’s routine mechanically. 
When he came back from taking a squad up to Head- 
quarters to report for fatigue duty, the Orderly-Ser- 
geant called out : 

“Here’s a letter for you. Corporal Elliott.” 

Shorty took the small white envelope from the 
Orderly’s hand, and looked at it curiously. Who 
could it be from ? It resembled somewhat the letters 
that once came from Bad Ax, Wis., but then again it 
was very different. He studied the handwriting, 
which was entirely strange to him. Then he was 
electrified by seeing that the postmark seemed to be 
something the same as on Si’s letters, but was 
blurred. He gave a little gasp, and said : 

“Orderly, I’d like to git off a little while today.” 

“Why, Shorty,” remonstrated the busy Sergeant, 
“you were off yesterday. But go. I’ll try to get 
along without you. Don’t stay long.” 

Shorty would not trust himself to more than look 
at the outside, until he had gained a safe screen 
behind a clump of bushes. Then he took out his 
knife, carefully slit the envelope, and read : 

Dear Mr. Elliot — 

I take my pen in hand to inform you that we are 
all in good health and hope you are enjoyin’ the 
same blessing fur which we should all be thankful 
to God. I am over on a visit to Prairie Hen and Mrs. 
Skidmore a widow woman called to see me today 
In the course of conversation she said her little boy 
Peter had run off and shed hurd hed joined the 


SHORTY GETS A LETTER. 


91 


200th Indiana Volunteer Infantry. She heard that 
we had folks in that regiment and so had come over 
to see me to see if I knowed anybody that would give 
her any news about her boy so as she could ask 
them to look out for him. I told her I knowed a 
gentleman in the 200th Indiana who would look out 
for Peter and be a second father to him and as soon 
as she had went I started this epistle. I thot id 
answer my letters because its all he can do to write 
answer my letter sbecause its all he can do to write 
to mother and Annabel and dont write to mother haf 
often enuf besides id like to hear from you myself. 

Sincerely Yore Friend 

Maria Klegg. 

“M-a-r-i-a-r K-l-e-g-g,” gasped Shorty, spelling 
over the letters, one at a time, to make sure that his 
eyes were not making a fool of him. “And she’d like 
to hear from me.” 

And he took off his hat, and fanned his burning 
face. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


SHORTY WRITES A LETTER TO MARIA KLEGG AND ENTERS 
UPON HIS PARENTAL RELATIONS TO LITTLE PETE 
SKIDMORE. 

T he self-sufficient, self-reliant Shorty had never 
before had anything to so completely daze 
him. 

“Ackchelly a letter from Maria Klegg. Writ of 
her own free will and accord. And she wants to hear 
from me” he murmured, reading the letter over and 
over again, and scanning the envelope as if by inten- 
sity of gaze he would wring more from the mute 
white paper. The thought was overpowering that it 
had come directly from her soft hand ; that she had 
written his name upon it ; that her lips had touched 
the stamp upon it. He tenderly folded up the letter 
and replaced it in the envelope. His thoughts were 
too tumultuous for him to sit still. He would walk 
and calm himself. He wrapped the piece of Maria’s 
dress around the letter, rose and started off. He had 
gone but a few steps when it seemed to him that he 
had not caught the full meaning of some of the words 
in the letter. He sought a secluded place where he 
could sit down, unseen by any eyes, and read the 
letter all over again several times. Then came the 
disturbing thought of how he was to care for and 


( 92 ) 


SHORTY WRITES A LETTER. 


93 


protect the precious missive ? He could not bear to 
part with it for a single minute, and yet he did not 
want to carry the sacred thing around exposed to 
the dirt and moil of daily camp-life and the danger 
of loss. He thought long and earnestly, and at last 
went down to a large sutler’s store, and purchased 
the finest morocco wallet from his stock. Even this 
did not seem a sufficiently rich casket for such a gem, 
and he bought a large red silk bandana, in which he 
carefully wrapped letter, dress fragment and wallet, 
and put them in the pocket of his flannel shirt, next 
his breast. Next came the momentous duty of 
writing an answer to the letter. Yesterday he was 
burning with a desire to make an opportunity to 
write. Now the opportunity was at hand, the object 
of his desires had actually asked him to write her, 
and the completeness of the opportunity unnerved 
him. 

'‘The first thing I have got to do,” said he, “is 
to git some paper and envelopes and ink. I don’t 
s’pose they’ve got anything here fit for a gentleman 
to write to a lady with.” He turned over the sutler’s 
stock of stationery disdainfully, and Anally secured 
a full quire of heavy, gilt-edged paper, and a package 
of envelopes, on which was depicted a red-and-blue 
soldier, with a flag in one hand and a gun in the 
other, charging bayonets through a storm of burst- 
ing shells. 

“It’s true I ain’t one o’^ the color-guard yit,” mused 
Shorty, studying the picture, “but the Colonel sorter 
hinted that I might be, if Cap McGillicuddy could 
spare me from Co. Q, which ain’t at all likely. Now, 
Mister, le’me see some pens.” 


94 


SI KLEGG. 


“Here’s some — Gillott’s — best quality,” said the 
sutler’s clerk. 

“Naw,” said Shorty contemptuously. “Don’t want 
no common steel pens. Coin’ to write to a lady. Git 
me your best gold ones.” 

Shorty made quite a pretense of trying, as he had 
seen penmen do, the temper of the pens upon his 
thumb-nail, but chose the largest and highest priced 
one, in an elaborate silver holder. 

“I’m very partickler ’bout my pens,” said he to 
the clerk. “I must have ’em to just suit my hand. 
Some folks’s very keerless about what they write 
with, but I wasn’t brung up that way.” 

“If you’d ask my advice,” said the clerk, “I’d 
recommend this thing as the best for you to use. It’d 
suit fine Italian hand better’n any pen ever made.” 

And he held up a marking-pot and brush. 

“Young man,” said Shorty, solemnly, as he paid 
for his purchases, “the condition o’ your health re- 
quires you not to try to be funny. It’s one o’ the 
dangerousest things in the army. You’re exposed 
to a great many complaints down here, but nothin’ 
’ll send you to the hospital as suddenly as bein’ 
funny.” 

The next thing was a studio where he could con- 
duct his literary task without interruption, and 
Shorty finally found a rock surrounded by bushes, 
where he could sit and commune with his thoughts. 
He got the cover of a cracker-box, to place on his 
knees and serve for a desk, laid his stationery down 
beside him, re-read Maria’s letter several times, 
spoiled several sheets of paper in trying to get his 
fingers limber enough for chirography, and then. 


SHORTY WRITES A LETTER. 


95 


begun the hardest, most anxious afternoon’s work 
he had ever done, in writing the following letter : 

“Camp ov the 2 Hunderdth Injianny 

“Voluntear Infantry, 

“Mishun Rij, nere Chattynoogy, April the 

10, 1864. 

“Miss Maria Klegg, 

“Respected Frend. 

(This part of the letter had cost Shorty nearly an 
hour of anxious thought. He had at first written 
“Dere Miss Maria,” and then recoiled, shuddered and 
blushed at the thought of the affectionate familiarity 
implied. Then he had scrawled, one after another, 
the whole gamut of beginnings, before he decided 
upon addressing her, as was her right, as formally 
as he would the wife of the President. 

“Yore letter was welcomer to me than the visit ov 
the Pamaster, after six months exclipse ov hiz cheer- 
ful mug.” 

(“I think ‘mug’ is the word they use for face in 
good society,” mused Shorty, with the end of the pen- 
holder in his mouth. “At least I heard the Kurnel 
use it one day. She can’t expect no man to be much 
gladder of anything than the cornin’ o’ the Pay- 
master, and that orter please her.”) 

“Thankee for yore kind inkwiries az to mi helth? 
Ime glad to say that Ime all rite, and sound in tung, 
body and runnin’ gear, and” 

(Shorty was on the point of adding “Hope that 
you are enjoying the same blessing,” when a shiver 
passed through him that it might be improper to 


96 


SI KLEGG. 


allude to a young lady’s locomotory apparatus. After 
deep meditation, he took safety’s side and added) : 

“So’s Si. I sinserely hoap that you are injoyin’ 
the blessin’s ov helth, and the konsolashuns ov 
religion.” 

(''I’m not certain about that last,” thought Shorty, 
"but I heard a preacher say it once, and it ought to 
be all right to write to a young lady.”) 

"We are still layin’ in camp, but expectin’ every 
day orders to move out for a little soshable with 
Mister Joe Johnston, whose roostin over on Pigeon 
Mountain. When we git at him, there won’t be no 
pigeon about it, but a game ov fox-and-geese with 
us for the foxes. 

("There,” mused Shorty, complacently; "that’ll 
amuse her. Girls like a little fun throwed into let- 
ters, when it’s entirely respectful.) 

"Little Pete Skidmore is in the company, all rite. 
He is wun ov the nicest boys that ever lived, but he 
needs half-killin’ nerely every day. All real nice boys 
do. Woodent give much for them if they diddent. 
Tel his mother He look out for him, and fetch him up 
in the way he shood go, if I haf to break every bone 
in his body. She needent worry. I no awl about 
boys. Thair like colts — need to be well-broke before 
thair enny akount.” 

("Now,” commented Shorty, as he read what he 
had written, "that’ll make Maria and his mother feel 
easy in their minds. They’ll think they’re in great 
luck to git a man who’ll be a second father to Pete, 
and not risk spilin the child by sparin the rod.”) 

("Great Jehosephat, what work writing to a young 
lady is. I’d much ruther build breastworks or make 


SHORTY WRITES A LETTER. 


97 


roads. Now, if it was some ordinary woman, I 
wouldn’t have to be careful about my spelin’ and 
gramer, but with sich a lady as Maria Klegg — 
great Cesar’s ghost! a man must do the very best 
that’s in him, and then that ain’t half enough. But 
I must hurry and finish this letter this afternoon. 1 
can’t git another day off to work at it.”) 

“Respected Miss Maria, what a fine writer you 
are. Yore handwritin’ is the most beautiful I ever 
seen. Jeb Smith, our company clerk, thinks that he 
can slink ink to beat old Spencerian System hisself, 
but he ain’t once with you. Ide ruther see one line 
ov your beautiful ritin’ than all that he ever writ.” 

(“That’s so,” said Shorty, after judicially scan- 
ning the sentence. “Jeb kin do some awful fancy 
kurlys, and draw a bird without takin’ his pen 
from the paper, but he never writ my name a 
thousandth part as purty as Maria kin.”) 

“And how purty you spel. Ime something ov 
a speler myself, and can nock out most x)v the boys 
in the company on Webster’s Primary, but I aint to 
be menshuned in the saim day with you. 

“With best respecks to your family, and hoapin 
soon to here from you, I am very respeckfully, your 
friend, 

W. L. Elliot. 

Corpril, Company Q, 2 Hundsrdth Injianny 
Volintear Infantry.” 

By the time he had his letter finished, and was 
wiping the sweat of intense labor from his brow, he 
heard the bugle sounding the first call for dress 


4 


98 


SI KLEGG. 


parade. “I must go and begin my fatherly dooties 
to little Pete Skidmore/' he said, carefully sealing 
his letter and sticking a stamp on it, to mail at the 
Chaplain’s tent as he went by. '‘It’s goin’ to be 
extry fatigue to be daddy to a little cuss as lively 
as a schoolhouse flea, and Corpril of Co. Q, at the 
same time, but I’m going to do it, if it breaks a leg.” 

He was passing a clump of barberry bushes when 
he overheard Pete Skidmore’s voice inside : 

“I’ll bet $10 I kin pick it out every time. I’ll bet 
$25 I kin pick it out this time. Don’t tech the cards.” 

“I don’t want to lose no more money on baby bets,” 
replied a tantalizing voice. “I’ll make it $40 or 
nothin’. Now, youngster, if y’re a man” 

Shorty softly parted the bushes and looked in. Two 
of the well-known sharpers who hung around the 
camps had enticed little Pete in there, and to a game 
of three-card monte. They had inflamed his boyish 
conceit by allowing him to pick out two cards in suc- 
cession, and with small bets. 

“I hain’t got but $40 left o’ my bounty and first 
month’s pay,” said little Pete irresolutely, “and I 
wanted to send $35 of it home to mother, but 
I’ll” 

“You’ll do nothin’ o’ the kind,” shouted Shorty, 
bursting through the bushes. “You measly whelps, 
hain’t you a grain o’ manhood left? Ain’t you 
ashamed to swindle a green little kid out o’ the 
money that he wants to send to his widowed 
mother?” 

“Go off and ’tend to your own business, if you 
know what’s good for you,” said the larger of the 
men threateningly. “Keep your spoon out o’ other 


SHORTY WRITES A LETTER 


99 


folks’ soup. This young man knows what he’s about. 
He kin take care o’ himself. He ain’t no chicken. 
You ain’t his guardeen.” 



PETE GETS LICKED 


100 


SI KLEGG. 


“No he ain’t/’ said Pete Skidmore, whose vanity 
was touched as well as his cupidity aroused. “Mind 
your own business, Mister Elliott. You’re only a 
Corpril anyway. You hain’t nothin’ to do with me 
outside the company. I kin take care o’ myself. I’ve 
beat these men twice, and kin do it again.” 

“Clear out, now, if you don’t want to git hurt,” 
said the larger man,’ moving his hand toward his 
hip. 

Shorty’s response was to kick over the board on 
which the cards were lying, and knock the man 
sprawling with a back-handed blow. He made a long 
pass at the other man, who avoided it, and ran away. 
Shorty took Pete by the collar and drew him out of 
the bushes, in spite of that youngster’s kicks and 
protestations. 

He halted there, pulled out his pocket-knife, and 
judicially selected a hickory limb, which he cut and 
carefully pruned. 

“What’re you goin’ to do?” asked Pete apprehen- 
sively. 

“I’m goin’ to give you a lesson on the evils of 
gamblin’, Pete, especially when you don’t know how.” 

“But I did know how,” persisted Pete. “I beat 
them fellers twice, and could beat them every time. 
I could see quicker’n they could move their hands.” 

“You little fool, you knowed about as much about 
them cards as they know of ice-water in the place 
where Jeff Davis is goin’. Pete, I’m goin’ to be a 
second father to you.” 

“Dod dum you, who asked you to be a daddy to 
me? I’ve had one already. When I want another. 
I’ll pick one out to suit myself,” and Pete looked 


SHORTY WRITES A LETTER. 


101 


around for a stone or a club with which to defend 
himself. 

'‘Pete/’ said Shorty solemnly as he finished trim- 
ming the switch, and replaced the knife in his pocket, 
“nobody’s allowed to pick out his own daddy in this 
world. He just gits him. It’s one o’ the mysterious 
ways o’ Providence. You’ve got me through one o’ 
them mysterious ways o’ Providence, and you can’t 
git shet o’ me. I’m goin’ to lick you still harder for 
swearin’ before your father, and sayin’ disrespeckful 
words to him. And I’m goin’ to lick you till you 
promise never to tech another card until I learn you 
you how to play, which’ll be never. Come here, my 
son.” 

The yells that soon rose from that thicket would 
have indicated that either a boy was being skinned 
alive or was having his face washed by his mother. 


CHAPTER IX. 


SI TAKES HIS BOYS FOR A LITTLE MARCH INTO THE 
COUNTRY. 

said the Orderly-Sergeant, “here’s a 
chance to give them pin-feather roosters o’ 
yours a little taste of active service, that’ll 
be good seasoning for ’em, and help develop their 
hackles and spurs.” 

“Good idee. What is it?” responded Si with 
alacrity. 

“An order’s come down from Headquarters to 
detail a Sergeant and eight men from the company 
to go out about eight or 10 miles in the country, and 
take a turn guarding a little mill they’re running out 
there, grinding meal. There’s a gang of bush- 
whackers around there, that occasionally pester the 
men at work and they’ve tried once to burn the mill. 
I don’t think you’ll have much trouble, but you’ve 
got to keep your eye peeled, and not let any of your 
boys go to sleep on post.” 

“I’ll look out for that.” 

“I know you will. You’ll take Shorty along, and 
your seven kids, which’ll make up the number. You’ll 
draw three days’ rations, at the end of which time 
you’ll be relieved.” 

“Now, boys,” said Si, returning to his squad, “we 


( 102 ) 


SI TAKES HIS BOYS FOR A MARCH. 


103 


won’t drill today, but are going out on some real 
soldierin’. The Kurnel has given us a very import- 
ant detail.” 

The boys swelled up visibly at the news. 

‘T want you to all act like soldiers, now,” con- 
tinued Si, '‘and be a credit to the company and the 
rijiment. We’re goin’ to be all by ourselves, and 
everybody’s eyes ’ll be on us.” 

“Yes,” echoed Shorty, “we’ll be the only part o’ 
the rijiment at the front, and we want to git a good 
stiff brace on ourselves, because if we don’t some o’ 
these other rijiments may git the grand laugh on 
us.” 

Shorty’s tone was that this was a calamity to 
which death was preferable, and the boys were cor- 
respondingly impressed. They were rapidly learning 
the lesson that the regiment and its reputation were 
the most important things in the whole world. 

“Come along, and le’s draw our rations,” said Si. 
“And you boys want to keep in mind that this’s all 
you’ll git for three days, and govern yourselves 
accordingly. The ’Leventh Commandment is to take 
all that you kin git, and take mighty good care of 
it after you git it” 

“For sich is the Kingdom of Heaven,” interjected 
Shorty, imitating the Chaplain’s tone. 

“No,” said Si, who was irritated by his partner’s 
irreverence: “but it’s the way a good soldier does. 
His first dooty’s to take care o’ his grub, because 
that’s takin’ care o’ himself, and keepin’ himself in 
good shape to do the dooty the Government expects 
o’ him. ’Tain’t servin’ the Government right for him 
to be careless about himself. Now here’s 27 rations 


104 


SI KLEGG. 


o’ bread, meat, coffee, sugar, salt and beans — three 
apiece for each of us. Harry Joslyn, you and Gid 
Mack divide them up into nine equal piles.” 

Si and Shorty turned to give directions about 
packing up the shelter-tents and blankets for carry- 
ing. 

“Now, Gid Mackall,” said Harry, “play fair, if you 
ever did in your life. I won’t have none o’ your 
shenanniging.” 

“Don’t talk to me about shenanniging, you little 
imp,” responded Gid cordially. “You can’t do a 
straight thing if you try, and you never try. You 
never fisted-up with me on a ball-bat that you didn’t 
slip your hand so’s to come out ahead.” 

“Now, there’s three loaves o’ bread for the Sar- 
gint,” said Harry, laying them down on a newspaper. 
“There’s three for the Corpril; there’s three for me; 
there’s three for you.” 

“Here, what’re you givin’ me that broken loaf 
for?” demanded Gid, stopping in his distribution of 
meat. Give that to Pete Skidmore. He’s the littlest.” 

“Ain’t goin’ to do nothin’ o’ the kind,” responded 
Harry. “You’ve got to take things as they come. 
That loaf fell to you, and you’ve got to keep it.” 

“If you don’t take that nubbin loaf away and put 
a full one in its place, not a speck o’ lean meat ’ll you 
get — nothin’ but fat six inches thick.” 

“You’ll cut that meat straight across, and give me 
my right share o’ lean, you puddin’-headed, sand- 
hill crane,” shouted Harry. 

“Who’re you a-calling names, you bow-legged little 
shrimp?” shouted Gid, slapping Harry across the 
face with a piece of fat pork. 


SI TAKES HIS BOYS FOR A MARCH. 


105 


An angry mix-up, school boy rules, followed, to 
the great detriment of the rations. Si and Shorty 
rushed up, separated the combatants, and adminis- 
tered shakes, cuffs, and sharp reprimands. 

“Now, you quarrelsome little whelps,’’ said Si, 
after quiet had been restored, “you’ve got to take 
them rations that you’ve spiled for yourselves. You 
shan’t have no other. Put that bread and that meat 
you’ve kicked around into your own haversacks. 
Then go back there and roll up your blankets — same 
as the other boys. Alf Russell, you and Jim Hum- 
phreys come here and divide the rest o’ these rations 
into seven parts, if you kin do it without fightin’.” 

The division of the rations proceeded, with some 
jars between Russell and Humphreys over the appor- 
tionment of fat and lean meat, and angry protests 
from little Pete Skidmore because they made his 
share smaller than anybody else’s. 

“Yit,” said he, “I’ve got to march just as far as 
any of you, carry just as big a gun, and do just as 
much shootin’.” 

“You’re wrong,” said the medical-minded Alf 
Russell. “You ought to have less than the others, 
because you’re smaller. The littler and younger the 
person the smaller the dose, always.” 

“No,” acceded the farmer Jim Humphreys. “Tain’t 
natural, nor right. You don’t give a colt as much 
feed as you do a grown horse. Anybody knows 
that.” 

“Pete’s plea is sound,” contraverted the legal- 
minded Monty Scruggs. “All men are equal before 
the law, though they mayn’t be a foot high. Rations 


106 


SI KLEGG. 


are a matter of law, and the law’s no respecter of 
persons.” 

'‘Rations is intended,” persisted Alf, “to give a 
man what he needs to eat — ^nothing more, nothing 
less. Pete don’t need as much as a man ; why give it 
to him? There’ d be just as much sense in giving him 
the clothes for a six-footer.” 

“All o’ you are always imposin’ on me ’cause I’m 
little,” whimpered Pete. “And that stuck-up Alf 
Russell’s the worst of all. Just because he’s goin’ 
to be a doctor, and leads in singin’ at church, he 
thinks he knows more’n the man what writ the arith- 
metic, and he’s down on me because I won’t take all 
he says for law and gospel, in spite of his airs. Jim 
Humphreys is down on me, because I writ home that 
I’d shot a man back there at the burnt bridge, and 
Jim got skeered at a coon-huntin’ nigger.” 

“Never mind, Pete,” said Monty consolingly, “none 
o’ them shall impose on you while I’m around. Now, 
Alf, you and Jim give Pete just as much as the rest, 
or I’ll make you.” 

“Who’ll you make, you brindle steer?” said Alf, 
laying down his bread and bristling up. 

“Stand, back, Alf ; he meant me,” said Jim, dis- 
posing his meat, and approaching Monty with 
doubled fists. “Now, Mister Scruggs, le’s see you do 
some makin’, since you’re so brash.” 

“Here, stop that, you little scamps,” shouted Si, 
whose attention had been so far devoted to quieting 
Harry and Gid, and showing them how to prepare 
their traps for marching. “Great Scott, can’t you 
git along without fightin’ ? I’m goin’ to take you 
where you’ll git real fightin’ enough to satisfy you. 


SI TAKES HIS BOYS FOR A MARCH. 


107 


Go ahead, there, and divide them rations, as i 
ordered you, and be quick about it, for we must 
hurry ofl” 

The mention of real fighting immediately sobered 
up the boys, and made them forget their squabbles. 
They hurried about their work with quickened zeal. 

“Now,” said Si, “pack your rations carefully in 
your haversacks, just as you see me and Corpril 
Elliott doin'. First, keep your sugar, coffee and salt 
separate. Put 'em in little tin boxes, like these, and 
see that the lids are on tight. Hurry up, now. Shorty, 
you'd better look over the boxes, and go up and draw 
as many cartridges as you think we'll need.'' 

The mention of need for cartridges was an electric 
impulse which set the boys keenly alive. They 
bundled their rations into their haversacks, and flung 
their blanket rolls over their shoulders, and were 
standing in a state of palpitating expectancy, when 
Shorty came back with his hands full of cartridges, 
which he proceeded to distribute. 

“Take arms,'' commanded Si. “Forward! — 

March !'' 

Si and Shorty started off with their long, easy 
campaign stride, which, in some incomprehensible 
way that the veteran only learns by practice, brought 
their feet down every time in exactly the right place, 
avoiding all stumbling-blocks, and covering without 
apparent effort a long distance in the course of an 
hour. The boys pattered industriously after, doing 
their best to keep up, but stumbling over roots and 
stones, and slipping on steep places, and dropping 
to the rear in spite of themselves. 

When Si made the customary halt at the end of the 


108 


SI KLEGG. 


first hour, his little command was strung back for a 
quarter of a mile, and little Pete Skidmore was out 
of sight. 

“Better go back and look for little Pete, Shorty,” 
said Si. “We seem to be losin’ him.” 

Pete was soon brought up, panting and tired. 

“Dod durn it, what’re you all runnin' away from 
me for?” he gasped. “Want to lose me? Want to git 
into the fight all by yourselves, and leave me out? 
Think because Pm little I can’t help? I kin shoot 
as well as anybody in the crowd, dod durn you.” 

“There, you see the nonsense o’ giving you as 
much rations as the others,” suggested Alf Russell. 
“You can’t pack ’em, and you wouldn’t need ’em if 
you did pack ’em.” 

“What business is it of yours. Mister Russell, I’d 
like to know,” asked Monty Scruggs, “what he does 
with his rations. His rations are his rights, and he’s 
entitled to ’em. It’s nobody’s business what use a 
man makes of his rights.” 

“Where are these rebels that we’re goin’ to fight?” 
asked Harry Joslyn, eagerly scanning the horizon. 
“I’ve been looking for ’em all along, but couldn’t see 
none. Was you in such a hurry for fear they’d get 
away, and have they got away?” 

“I wasn’t in no hurry,” answered Si. “That was 
only regler marchin’ gait.” 

“Holy smoke,” murmured the rest, wiping their 
foreheads; “we thought you was trying to run the 
rebels down.” 

“Don’t be discouraged, boys,” said Si. “You’ll 
soon git used to marchin’ that way right along, and 
never thinking of it. It may seem a little hard now, 


SI TAKES HIS BOYS FOR A MARCH. 


109 


but it ‘won’t last long. I guess you’re rested enough. 
Attention ! Forward ! — March !” 

Si and Shorty had mercifully intended to slow 
down a little, and not push the boys. But as they 
pulled out they forgot themselves, and fell again into 
their long, swinging stride, that soon strung the boys 
out worse than ever, especially as they were not now 
buoyed up by an expectation of meeting the enemy. 

‘‘We must march slower. Si,” said Shorty, glancing 
ruefully back, “or we’ll lose every blamed one o’ them 
boys. They’re too green yit.” 

“That’s so,” accorded Si. “It’s like tryin’ to make 
a grass-bellied horse run a quarter-stretch.” 

“Might I inquire,” asked Monty Scruggs, as he 
came up, wiped his face and sat down on a rock, 
“whether this is what you’d call a forced march, or 
merely a free-will trial trot for a record.” 

“Neither,” answered Si. “It’s only a common, 
straight, every-day march out into the country. You 
kin count upon one a day like this for the rest o’ your 
natural lives — I mean your service. It’s part o’ what 
you enlisted for. And this’s only a beginnin’. Some 
days you’ll have to keep this up 15 or 18 hours at a 
stretch.” 

There was a general groan of dismay. ‘ 

“Gracious, I wish I’d wings, or that T’d enlisted in 
the cavalry,” sighed Harry. 

“Brace up ! Brace up !” said Shorty. “You’ll soon 
git used to it, and make your 40 miles a day like the 
rest of us, carrying your bed-clothes and family 
groceries with you. It’s all in gittin’ used to it, as 
the man said who’d bin skinnin’ eels for 40 years, 
and that now they didn’t mind it a bit.” 


110 


SI KLEGG. 


“Well, le’s jog along,” said Si. “We ougHt to git 
there in another hour. There’s a big rain cornin’ up, 
and we want to git under cover before it strikes us. 
Forward ! — March !” 

But the rain was nearer that Si thought. It came, 
as the Spring rains come in the North Georgia moun- 
tains — as if Niagara had been shifted into the clouds 
overhead. The boys were literally washed off the 
road, and clung to saplings to avoid being carried 
away into the brush. 

“I’ll fall back and keep the boys together,” said 
Shorty, as soon as an intermission allowed them to 
speak. 

“Alright,” said Si. “Look out for little Pete.” And 
Si began to forge stolidly ahead. 

“Goodness, Sarjint, you’re not going to travel in 
such a storm as this,” gasped Gid Mackall. 

“Certainly,” Si called back. “Come on. We’ve got 
to reach that mill tonight, no matter what happens. 
You’d might as well be drowned marchin’ as standin’ 
still. ’Tain’t rainin’ no worse further ahead than 
here. Forward !” 

“Close up, boys,” said Shorty, taking little Pete’s 
gun and the youngster’s hand. “This’s only a Spring 
shower. ’’Tain’t nothin’ to what we had on the Tully- 
homy Campaign. There the drops was as big as 
punkins, and come as thick as the grains on a ear o’ 
corn. Close up, there; dodge the big drops, and go 
ahead.” 

“Hold on to me tight ! Hold on to me !” clamored 
little Pete. “If you don’t I’ll be washed away and 
lost for sure.” , 

“Come along, Peter, my son,” Shorty assured him. 


SI TAKES HIS BOYS FOR A MARCH. 


Ill 


“I hain't never lost no children yit, and I hain’t goin’ 
to begin with you.” 

The storm grew more violent every minute, limbs 
were torn from the trees, and fell with a crash, and 



torrents rushed down from the mountain side, across 
the road. Si strode on resolutely, as if the disturb- 
ance were nothing more than a Summer zephyr. He 
waded squarely through the raging streams, turning 
at times to help the next boy to him, strode over the 


112 


SI KLEGG. 


fallen limbs, and took the dashing downpour with 
stolid indifference. 

“Close up, boys ! Close up !” shouted Shorty from 
time to time. “Don’t mind a little sprinkle like this. 
It’ll lay the dust, and make marchin’ easier. Come 
along, Peter, my son. I’m not goin’ to lose you.” 

Night suddenly came, with pitchy darkness, but Si 
steadily forged onward. Then the rain ceased as 
suddenly as it began, but the road was encumbered 
with fallen timber and swirling races of muddy 
water. They seemed more uncomfortable even than 
when the rain was falling. They were now nearing 
the mill, and the sound of a fitful musketry fire came 
to their ears. 

“They’ve sneaked up in the storm to attack the 
mill,” Si called out to Shorty. “Close up and pre- 
pare for action.” 

“Goodness,” gasped Gid Mackall, much of whose 
vim had been soaked out of him by the fearful down- 
pour, and who was oppressed by fatigue, hunger, and 
the dense blackness of the night in the strange 
woods. “You don’t have to fight when you’re wetter’n 
a drowned rat, and so tired you’re ready to drop, do 
you?” 

“That’s what you do,” said Shorty, wiping off his 
musket. “That’s the way you’ll have to do most o’ 
your fightin’. The miserabler you feel the miserabler 
you want to make the other fellers feel. Boys, turn 
your guns upside down and let the water run out. 
Then half-cock ’em, and blow into ’em to clean the 
water out o’ the tubes. Then find a dry rag some- 
where about you, and wipe off the nipples. We want 


SI TAKES HIS BOYS FOR A MARCH. 


113 


every gun to go off when the order is given. Don’t 
anybody load till Si gives the order.” 

The drenched but excited boys followed his direc- 
tions with nervous haste. Shorty took one gun after 
another and examined it, while Si went forward a 
little ways to reconnoiter. The calm deliberation of 
the partners steadied the nervous boys. 

“Load,” called back Si, from the vantage ground 
of a little knoll, upon which he was standing, trying 
to see into the darkness beyond. A volley from out 
in front responded to the sound of his voice, and 
bullets knocked bark off the big chestnut behind 
which he had shrewdly taken refuge. 

“Jest as I expected. Si,” Shorty called back to him. 
“The rebels have throwed back- a squad to watch for 
us.” 

“.Yes,” said Si, coolly, as he stepped back to meet 
the boys. “There ain’t but 10 o’ them, though. I 
counted every flash and located ’em. They’re all in 
a bunch right over there by a dead tree to the left. 
Move up there quick, aim a little to the left. Aim 
low, and fire just as we reach the rise. I’ll fire first, 
and the rest of you foller. Try to hit something, 
every one of you.” 


CHAPTER X. 


THE BOYS HAVE A COUPLE OF LITTLE SKIRMISHES, BUT 
FINALLY GET TO THE MILL. 

T he time and the surroundings were such as to 
bring the spirits of the boys to their lowest 
ebb. 

The gloomy, mysterious woods seemed a world’s 
distance away from their homes, friends and assist- 
ance. 

The long, tiresome tramp, the violent rainstorm, 
which had soaked them to their skins, and apparently 
found its way to their hearts; the muddy, slippery 
road, with torrents rushing across it, the splashing, 
searching rivulets from the boughs overhead, were 
all deeply depressing. 

The boys huddled together, as if to gain courage 
by closer contact. 

‘'Gracious, I never supposed they’d pull off a fight 
at night, when everybody was tired to death and 
soaked to a gruel,” said Alf Russell in a shivery 
whisper. 

“They fought at Hohenlinden at night, and on the 
snow,” answered Monty Scruggs. “But snow’s not 
so bad as rain, and, then, they didn’t have these 
awful woods. I’d feel much better if we was out in 
a clearing somewhere.” 

“Come into line to the left, there,” commanded Si, 
in a low tone. “Deploy, one pace apart. Shorty, 
take the left out there in the bushes. Don’t make no 
noise, step carefully, and don’t shoot till I do.” 


( 114 ) 


THE BOYS HAVE A COUPLE OF SKIRMISHES. 115 


“Keep near me, Pete, and you won’t git lost,” said 
Shorty, as he stepped off into the brush. 

“Must I shoot the same time you do, or wait till 
you shoot?” asked Pete, who seemed less depressed 
by his surroundings than the others, and mainly 
eager to get a chance to shoot. 

“Don’t watch me,” cautioned Shorty. “Watch the 
fellers you are shootin’ at, and try to hit ’em. Fire 
just as soon as you want to after you hear the 
others.” 

“I’ll bet I’ll hit a rebel if anybody does,” said Pete 
with hopeful animation. 

They tramped forward a few steps over the 
spongy ground, and through the dripping bushes. 

The musketry fire continued fitfully around the 
mill in the distance. 

They came to the summit of the little rise. 

“Hist — halt ; lay down, quick,” called the watchful 
Si, in a penetrating voice. “They’ve loaded agin’, 
and are about to shoot.” 

He and Shorty were down on their faces as he 
spoke. The others obeyed more slowly and clumsily. 
The rebel volley cut the limbs and bushes over their 
heads, and whistled viciously through the damp air 
and the darkness. 

As little Pete dropped to the ground, his nervous 
finger touched the trigger and his gun went off up 
in the air. The others took this as a cue, and banged 
away as rapidly as they could get their muskets off. 

Only Si and Shorty, in dropping, had kept the lay 
of the ground in view, and without rising they delib- 
erately aimed their pieces whither the volley had 


116 


SI KLEGG. 


come and fired. A suppressed yell of pain came from 
the other side. 

“We salted one of ’em, anyway,” chuckled Shorty, 
as he raised on his knee to reload his gun. 

“Gosli all Chrismus,” said Si, using his most for- 
midable swear-word, for he was very angry. “What 
was you brats shootin’ at? Squirrels or angels? A 
rebel’d had to be 80 cubits high, like old Haman, for 
one o’ you to’ve hit him. Lots o’ good o’ your packin’ 
around guns and cartridges, if you’re goin’ to waste 
your ammynition on the malaria in the clouds. Load 
agin, now, carefully, and when you shoot agin be 
sure to fetch something. I’ll take my ramrod to the 
next boy that I ketch shootin’ higher’n a man’s head. 
This ain’t no Fourth-o’-July business. Our job’s tc 
kill them whangdoodles over there, and I want you 
to ’tend strictly to that.” 

The threat of a real boyish thrashing and the cool 
matter-of-fact way that Si and Shorty conducted 
themselves — precisely as if chopping trees or mow. 
ing a field — steadied the boys wonderfully. 

“They’re about ready to shoot agin,” Si spok< 
down the line, in a penetrating whisper. “Every- 
body hug the ground, and watch the flashes. Each 
feller git a good line on the flash straight in front 
of him, and let the .hound have a chunk o’ lead just 
below his belt. If you’re all real good, and shoot 
just right. I’ll take you on a rush right at them fel- 
lers, and we’ll scatter what’s left like a flock o’ quail. 
Lay low. There it comes agin. Lay low.” 

An irregular volley burnt out in the blackness 
beyond. The bullets sang around much closer than 
before, and several of them struck near Si, one land- 


THE BOYS HAVE A COUPLE OF SKIRMISHES. 117 


ing in the leaves and moss directly in front of him, 
and throwing a wet sprinkle in his face. 

“Like the parrot, I was talkin’ too much and too 
loud,” thought Si. “They wuz all reachin’ for me, 
and one feller made a mighty good line shot. Le’s 
see if I can’t better him.” 

He drew down in his sights as carefully as he 
could in the darkness, and pulled the trigger. As 
the smoke thinned out a little he thought he saw 
something beyond which indicated a man staggering 
and falling. 

This time the boys seemed to be firing effectively. 
There was a commotion in the woods beyond, and 
the sound of groans on the damp air. 

“Raise up!” shouted Si. “Forward! Forward! 
Jump ’em. Jump ’em before they kin load agin !” 

Loading his gun with the practiced ease of a vet- 
eran as he rushed forward. Si led his squad directly 
against the position of the rebels. Part of the rebels 
had promptly run away, as they heard Si order the 
charge, but part boldly stood their ground, and were 
nervously reloading, or fixing bayonets, as the squad 
came crashing through the brush. One of the rebels 
fired a hasty, ineffectual shot, and by its light Shorty 
saw the nervous little Pete, who had torn off his 
cumbering haversack, letting his hat go with it, slip 
between him and Si, and gain a pace in advance. 

“Git back, you little rat,” said Shorty, reaching 
out a long arm, catching the boy by the collar, and 
yanking him back. “Git behind me and stay there.” 

The flash revealed another rebel fumbling for a 
cap. Shorty’s gun came down, and the rebel fell, 
shot through the shoulder. The rebel leader, a long- 


m 


sr KLEGG. 


haired, lathy man, with the quickness of a wildcat, 
sprang at Si with his bayonet fixed. Heavy-footed 
and deliberate as Si usually was, when the electricity 
of a fight was in him there was no lack of celerity. 
He caught the rebel’s bayonet on his musket-barrel 
and warded it off so completely that the rebel shot 
by him in the impetus of his own rush. As he passed 
Si delivered a stunning blow on the back of his head 
with his gun-barrel. 

“That zouave drill was a mighty good thing, after 
all,” thought Si, as he turned from his prostrate foe 
to the others. 

While this was going on, the boys were imitating 
Shorty’s example, getting their guns loaded, and 
banging away as fast as they did so into the rebels, 
who went down under the shots, or ran off, leaving 
one of their number, a tall, lank mountaineer, who 
seemed beside himself with rage. He had grasped 
his empty gun by the stock, and was swinging it 
around his head, yelling fierce insults and defiance 
to the whole race o’ Yankees. 

“Come on, you infernal pack o’ white-livered, 
nigger-stealin’, house-robbin’, hell-desarvin’ hypo- 
crites,” he shouted. “I kin lick the hull bilin’ o’ 
yo’uns. This is my wounded pardner here, and 
yo’uns can’t have neither me nor him till yo’uns 
down me, which y’ can’t do. Come on, y’ pigeon- 
livered cowards.” 

The boys who had pressed up near him, shrank 
back a little, out of possible range of that violently 
brandished musket, and began loading their guns. 

Shorty had stopped for an instant to turn over 
into an easier position the rebel he had shot. 


THE BOYS HAVE A COUPLE OF SKIRMISHES. 119 


Si paced up. His gun was loaded, and he could 
have easily brought the rebel down. But the rebel’s 
devotion to his partner touched him. 



don’t anybody shoot. 


^‘Don’t shoot, boys,” he commanded; “leave me to 
’tend to him. Say, Johnny,” he addressed the rebel, 
in a placatory way, “don’t make a fool o’ yourself. 
Come down, we’ve got you, dead. Drop that gun.” 


120 


SI KLEGG. 


“Go to brimstone blazes,” shouted the rebel. “If 
yo’uns have got me, why don’t y’ take me. I kin 
lick the hull caboodle o’ y’ sneakin’ mulatters. Come 
on, why don’t y’?” 

“Give him a wad. Si,” said Shorty, reloading his 
own gun. “We haint no time to lose. They need us 
over there.” 

“No, don’t anybody shoot,” commanded Si; “he’s 
just crazy about his partner. He’s too brave a man 
to kill. Say, Johnny, have a little sense. We haint 
goin’ to hurt your partner, nor you, if you’ll behave. 
Drop that gun at once, and surrender.” 

“Go to blazes,” retorted the rebel, swinging his 
gun more wildly than ever. “Yo’uns is all liars. No 
dependence kin be placed on y’. If y’ want me, come 
and git me.” 

Shorty had begun to think the thing somewhat 
humorous. “Look here, Johnny,” said he, “wouldn’t 
you like a big chaw o’ navy terbacker — bright plug / 
Genuine Yankee plug? Swingin’ that ere gun that 
way is awful tiresome.” 

“Eh — What’s that?” said the rebel, startled by the 
new proposition and its coolness. 

“I say, don’t you want a big chaw o’ terbacker? 
You must need it. I always do after I’ve bin workin’ 
hard. Drop your gun, and have one with me. We’re 
Injiannians, and we don’t mean no harm to your 
partner, nor to you. We’ll take care o’ him, if he’s 
hurt. Here, cut your own chaw.” 

“Air yo’uns from Injianny?” said the rebel, bring- 
ing his gun down to a less menacing attitude. “I’ve 
done got two brothers in Injianny, and I hear they’- 


THE BOYS HAVE A COUPLE OF SKIRMISHES. 121 


uns Ve done inlisted in Yankee rijiments. Mebbe 
yo’uns know 'em.” 

“Mebbe we do,” said Shorty, handing him a long 
plug and his knife. “But we hain’t time to talk it 
over now. We’ll do that in the mornin’, when busi- 
ness ain’t so pressin’. Le’ me hold your gun while 
you cut your terbacker.” 

“Now, look here,” said Si, “time’s jumpin’, and 
we must talk quick. If we parole you, will you stay 
here, and take care o’ your partner and the others, 
and be here in the mornin’, when we send for you?” 

“You won’t send for me, if yo’uns is a-gwine on 
ter font we’uns up at the mill. We’uns chaw yo’uns 
up, or run y’ outen the country.” 

“We’ll take care o’ that,” said Si sharply. “Will 
you promise on your honor to stay with these men, 
and take care o’ them till daylight, if we don’t come 
sooner?”. 

“Sartin, — ’pon honor,” answered the rebel, with 
his mouth full of tobacco. 

“All right, then. Load at will. Load ! Forward ! — 
March!” commanded Si. 

Si moved on cautiously, for he feared that the run- 
aways had told those attacking the mill about his 
advance, and would bring them all down upon him. 
The dying down of the firing about the mill con- 
firmed thi§ opinion. He warned his boys to make 
as little noise as possible, and went ahead of them 
some distance, to reconnoiter, slipping along the side 
of the road, under the shadow of the trees. He 
arranged a system of signals with Shorty, by which 
one click of his gunlock meant halt, and two to come 
ahead. Presently he came in sight of the broad race 


122 


SI KLEGG. 


which ran to the mill. The starlight was sufficient 
to show its width and its banks, with the logs lying 
along, which had been cut when it was dug. A 
bridge crossed the race for the road to the mill. 
Beyond the ground rose sharply, and looking at the 
crest against the sky, he could see the rebels, one by 
one, file over, and come down to where they could 
crouch behind the logs and ambuscade the bridge. 

Si clicked his gunlock, and waited till he had 
counted 25 rebels gathered there, which seemed to be 
all, as no more appeared. Then he slipped back to 
Shorty, and hurriedly explained the situation. 

The boys listened with sinking hearts. More than 
three times as many rebels as they themselves num- 
bered, and perhaps fiercer and stronger than those 
they had already encountered. 

The elation of their recent victory subsided. Again 
the woods became omniously dark and gloomy, the 
soaking dampness very depressing. They huddled 
together to brace each other up. 

'‘Si,” said Shorty, “didn't you say that it was a 
squad o' the Maumee Muskrats in the mill, and that 
we wuz goin' to relieve 'em.'' 

“Yes, and the Orderly said that railroad ‘Mick' — 
Hennessey — was the Sarjint in command.'' 

“0, that bog-trottin' old section boss, that hairy- 
handed artist with the long shovel, is there, is he 
with his crucifix and his prayers to the Saints. 
That's all right. He's bin stormin' and swearin' 
ever since the fight begun, because he's bin obliged 
to stay inside and shoot, and instid of making a 
grand rush and settling things, according to Donny- 
brook Fair rules. I tell you what you do. You work 


THE BOYS HAVE A COUPLE OF SKIRMISHES. 123 


the boys carefully down through the brush toward 
the race, and git ’em into position in easy range of 
the rebels, covering ’em behind logs. I’ll take a cir- 
cuit around to the left, and git over to the hill, 
behind the rebels, and near enough the mill for 
Hennessey to hear me. Then I’ll fire a shot and yell 
for Hennessey. He knows my voice, and he’ll bring 
his men out like a pack o’ hornets. Then you let into 
the rebels from your side. They can’t git across the 
race at you, and we’ll have ’em where we kin whip- 
saw ’em.” 

“Shorty,” said Si admiringly, “Gen. Grant ’ll hear 
o’ you some day, and then Co. Q will lose its bright- 
est star, but the army’ll gain a great General.” 

“I know it; I know it,” said Shorty, modestly; 
“but don’t stop to talk about it now. I think I’ve 
got the lay o’ the mill in mind. I’ll just cut around 
that way. Don’t shoot till you hear me.” 

Si quietly deployed his boys to the left of the road, 
and worked them through the brush until they came 
to the crest overlooking the mill-race. They took 
readily to this sort of work. They had all hunted 
rabbits over the hills of southern Indiana, and they 
came into position so softly that the rebels beyond 
did not suspect their presence. 

Then came a long wait for the signal froxn Shorty. 
The rebels seemed to get tired first. Presently they 
could be seen moving around, and Si had hard work 
restraining his squad from shooting at the tempting 
marks. Then the rebels began talking, at first in 
murmurs, and then louder. There seemed to be a 
division of opinion among them. Those who had 
been run back were sure that the Yankee were 


124 


SI KLEGG. 


coming on to the relief of their comrades in the mill. 
The others thought that their comrades had run 
the other away just as fast. 

“I tell you, hit’s no use to wait for they’uns no 
longer,” said one strong voice. “Them Yankees is 
runnin’ back to their camps as fast as they’uns’s legs 
’ll carry they’uns. If yo’uns ’d had any sand, and 
stood yer ground, you’d ’a seed ’em. But yo’ yaller 
hammers allers git the ager when ever a cap’s 
busted, and run yer rabbit-gizzards out.” 

“Y’re a liar,” hotly responded another voice. 
'Thar was more’n 50 o’ them Yankees, if thar was 
a man. We fit ’em awful, before we give away, and 
they’d killed Burt Dolson and Bob Whittyker, and 
I don’t know how many more. They come bulgin’ 
right on toward the mill, arter they’d reformed. I 
know hit, bekase Eph and me staid and watched ’em, 
and shot at ’em, till we thought hit best to run back 
and warn ye.” 

“Ye wuz in a powerful hurry to warn us,” sneered 
the other. “Well, thar’s no Yankees over thar, and 
none haint a-comin’ till daylight. I’ve ketched all 
the ager and rhematiz here that I’m a-gwine ter. 
Le’s go back and salivate them fellers in the mill, 
and set fire to it.” 

This seejned to be the prevailing sentiment, and Si 
began to fear that they would all go, and might 
intercept Shorty. He was on the point of ordering 
the boys to fire, and attract their attention, when 
Shorty’s rifle rang out, and the next instant came a 
roar from Shorty’s powerful lungs, with each word 
clear and distinct: 

“Hennessy — you — red — mouthed — Mick — come 


THE BOYS HAVE A COUPLE OF SKIRMISHES. 125 


out. The 200th Injianny is — here. Come out — with 
a rush — ^you — imported spalpeen — and jump — 'em — 
in — the — rear !" 

“Now, boys,” commanded Si, “keep cool, pick your 
man, and fire low. I’m goin’ to take the feller that’s 
bin doin’ the big talkin’.” 

Each of the boys had already picked his man, and 
was eagerly waiting the word. Their fire threw 
their enemies into confusion, and as their guns 
rattled, the barricaded doors of the mill were thrown 
open, and Hennessey rushed out with a wild Irish 
“hurroo.” The rebels incontinently fled, without an 
attempt at resistance. 

After it was ascertained that every unhurt rebel 
was running for dear life to get away, after Hennes- 
sey and his squad had gathered up the wounded and 
carried them into the mill, and after the boys had 
yelled themselves hoarse over their victory gained 
with such unexpected ease, they suddenly remem- 
bered that they were so tired that they could scarcely 
drag one foot after another, and hungrier than 
young wolves at the end of a hard Winter. 

“Gewhillikins,” murmured Jim Humphreys, “I 
wonder when we’re going to have supper. I’m as 
holler as a stovepipe.” 

“You’ve got your suppers in your haversacks,” 
said Si. “We’ll go into the mill and build a fire and 
make some coffee and fry some meat.” 

“In my haversack,” said Jim ruefully, after they 
had entered the mill, and he had run his hand into 
his forgotten haversack, and withdrawn it covered 
with a viscid greasy mush. “My haversack’s full o’ 
water, that’s soaked everything else in it to a gruel.” 


126 


SI KLEGG. 


“So’s mine; so’s mine/^ echoed the rest, as they 
examined. 

“Confound it,” said Si wrathfully, as he looked 
into one after another. “Didn’t none o’ you have 
sense enough to fasten down the covers carefully, 
so’s to keep the water out? Here it is — salt and 
sugar and coffee, bread and greasy pork all in one 
nasty mess. I declare, you don’t seem to have the 
sense you wuz born with. You’ve bin breakin’ your- 
selves down luggin’ around 10 or 15 pounds o’ water, 
besides spilin’ your rations.” 

“Probably Sarjint Hennessey has some rations 
that he kin give us,” suggested Shorty, who was 
genuinely sorry for the poor boys. 

“Dade I haint — not a smidgeon,” answered Hen- 
nessey. “We ixpicted ye’s to git here this forenoon 
and relieve us, and we et up ivery spoonful of our 
grub for breakfast, so’s to lighten us for a quick 
march back to camp. They’ve not bin runnin’ in the 
mill for several days, and’ve carted off ivery bit of 
the male they ground. We’re nigh starved oursilves, 
but we’ve had a lovely little foight, and we forgive 
ye’s for not coming airlier. Oi wouldn’t ’ve missed 
that last rush on thim divil’s for a month’s double 
rations.” 

“Well,” said Si, encouragingly, “we’ll have to 
make mine and Shorty’s rations go around as well 
as they kin, among all of you. Fish the meat out o’ 
your haversacks, boys, and wash the dope off it. It 
ain’t spiled, anyway. We kin each of us have a little 
to eat tonight, and we’ll trust to Providence for ter- 
morrer.” 


CHAPTER XL 


SHORTY GIVES THE BOYS THEIR FIRST LESSON IN 
FORAGING. 

W ITH the elasticity of youth the boys slept 
away their fatigue during the night, but 
woke up the next morning ravenously 

hungry. 

‘‘What in the world are we goin’ to do for grub, 
Si?’’ asked Shorty, as soon as he got his eyes fairly 
open. 

“Oi know fwhat Oi’m goin’ to do,” said Hennessey. 
“Oi’m goin’ to show the foinest pace av shprinting 
back to camp that has been sane in these parts since 
our roight bruk that day at Chickamaugy. No 
grass’ll grow under me fate, Oi tell yez. And as I 
pass through your camp Oi’ll foind yer Captain, and 
tell the fix you’re in, and to sind out some rations.” 

“But even if he does send them at once, they can’t 
git here till evenin’, and I hate powerfully to let hiip 
and the rest know that we didn’t have sense enough 
to take care o’ our victuals after we’d drawed ’em,” 
said Si. 

“If it was only one, or even two days, I’d let the 
boys starve it out, as a good lesson to ’em,” said 
Shorty. “But three seems like cruelty to dumb 
beasts.” 


( 127 ) 


128 


SI KLEGG. 


“But what’ll they say about us in camp ?” groaned 
Si. “They’ll have the grand laugh on me and you, 
and every one o’ the boys. I’d ruther go on quarter 
rations for a month than stand the riggin’ they’ll 
give us, and have Capt. McGillicuddy give me one 
look when he asks the question about how we come 
to lose all our rations so soon? He’ll think me a 
purty Sarjint to send out into the country in charge 
o’ men, and you a fine Corpril.” 

“Say,” said Shorty, his face illuminated with a 
bright idea. “We might report the rations ’lost in 
action.’ That’d fix it fine. We had two good fights, 
and come out ahead. That’ll tickle the Captain so 
that he won’t be partickler what we report.” 

“Hurroo!” echoed Hennessey; “that’s the ticket.” 

“But we didn’t lose ’em in action, and to say so’d 
be a lie,” answered Si, whose conscience had none 
of the easy elasticity of his partner’s. “We could 
report ’em burnt up by lightnin’, but we won’t. They 
was lost by sheer, dumbed carelessness, that me and 
you and the boys should knowed better than to’ve 
allowed. That’s all there is of it, and that’s what I’m 
goin’ to report, if I have to.” 

“Great Jehosephat,” exploded Shorty; “you kin 
certainly be the stubbornest mule over nothin’. Si 
Klegg, that I ever seen. We’ve done fightin’ enough 
to excuse sich a report, or any that we’ve a mind to 
make.” 

“Nothin’ kin justify a lie,” persisted the obdu- 
rate Si. 

“Holy smoke ! bigger men than you — lots bigger — 
have squared up their accounts that way. Didn’t all 
the Captains in the rijiment, and the Quartermaster 


THE FIRST LESSON IN FORAGING. 129 

and Commissary, and, for what I know, the Chaplain 
and the Colonel, git clean bills o' health after the 
battle o' Stone River, by reportin' everything that 
they couldn't find ‘lost in action ?' " 

“Yis," added Hennessey, “and didn't my Captain, 
after Chickamaugy, git us all new uniforms and com- 
plete kits, by reportin' iverything ‘lost in action?' 
Smart man, my Captain, Oi tell yez." 

“Well, I don't think any the more o' them for it. 
We spiled our rations before the fightin' begun, 
they'd bin spiled if there'd bin no fightin', and I 
haint going to send no other words, if I've got 
to send any word." 

“Who the divil's goin’ to carry this word, Oi'd like 
to know, Misther Klegg?" broke in Hennessey. “Are 
you goin' to put words into my mouth, Misther 
Klegg? Oi'll tell your Captain just fwhat Oi plaze, 
about you and your foight and your rations. Oi want 
no more worrids wid ye. Attintion, min ! Shoulder, 
a-r-m-s ! Roight face ! Forward, foile left ! — 
M-a-r-c-h !" 

“I s'pose I ain't responsible for any o' the fairy 
tales with which that wild Mick'll fill up the Cap- 
tain," said Si, self-consolingly, as Hennessey and his 
squad marched away in quick time. “He'll put a rich, 
red. County Connaught color on everything that’s 
happened out here, and the Captain’ll believe as 
much as suits him. Anyhow, Hennessey’ll not say 
anything to our disadvantage, and probably the Cap- 
tain’ll send out some rations by fast mule express." 

“Yes," accorded Shorty; “we’ll git some rations 
from camp by this evenin'. Cap will look out for 


5 


130 


SI KLEGG. 


that. Meanwhile, I’ll take out two or three o’ the 
boys on a scout into the country, to see if we can’t 
pick up something to eat.” 

“Humph,” said Si, skeptically, “you’ll find mighty 
poor pickin’, after them Ohio boys ’s bin out here 
three days. What they haint taken has been rooted 
in the ground.” 

“Yes; they’re awful foragers and thieves,” as- 
sented Shorty. “All Ohio boys is. I’m glad I’m from 
Injianny. Still, I’ve generally bin able to find some- 
thing, even after the Ohio boys had bin there.” 

“Well, I think we’d better first go back and see 
about them rebels that we wounded last night. They 
may be sufferin’ awfully, and we oughtn’t to think 
about something to eat, before doin’ what we kin for 
them.” 

“That’s so,” assented Shorty. “I’d a-gone back 
Igist night, but we was all so dead tired.” 

“Well, I’ll take two o’ the boys and go back. You 
stay here with the rest, and hold the mill. I’ll git 
back as soon’s I kin, and then you kin take a. couple 
o’ the boys and go out foragin’.” 

Calling Alf Russell and Monty Scruggs to follow 
him, 'Si started back to the scene of the skirmish of 
the night before. The woods looked totally different, 
under the bright Spring sunshine, from what they 
had seemed in the chill, wet blackness of the pre- 
vious night. Buds were bursting and birds singing, 
and all nature seemed very blithe and inspiring. 

“Gracious, what a difference daylight makes in the 
woods,” murmured Monty Scruggs. “Tain’t a bit 
like Hohenlinden. 


THE FIRST LESSON IN FORAGING. 


131 


Tis morn, but scarce yon lurid sun 
Can pierce the war-clouds rolling dun, 

Where furious Frank and fiery Hun 
Shout ’mid their sulphurous canopy.” 

“You’d think, from the way the bird ’s singing, 
and the flowers blooming, that there’ d never been a 
gun fired within a hundred miles o’ here.” 

“Seems like we only dreamed all that happened 
last night,” accorded Alf Russell. “There’s nothing 
in the woods or the ground that looks as it did then, 
and I can’t hardly make myself believe that this is 
the way we come.” 

“Well, here’s something that’ll convince you it 
wasn’t a dream,” said Si, as they made their way 
through the broken and trampled brush, and came 
to a little knoll, on which the final fight had been 
made, and where were gathered the wounded rebels. 
There were three of these ; the man whom Shorty had 
shot in the shoulder, the one whom Si knocked down 
by a stunning blow on the head, and the one who had 
been hit in the thigh by a shot from the boys, and 
who was the “pardner” of the recalcitrant man of 
the previous evening. He was still there, caring for 
his comrades. The men who had been shot were so 
faint from loss of blood that they coiild scarcely 
move, and the man whom Si had struck was only 
slowly recovering consciousness. 

The unhurt rebel was standing there with his gun 
in hand, and had apparently been watching their 
approach for some time. 

“My parole was out at daylight,” he said, as they 
came up. “The sun’s now nearly an hour high. I 


132 


SI KLEGG. 


ain’t obleeged to be good no more, and I could’ /e 
drapped one o’ yo’uns when y’ fust turned offen the 
road, and got away. I s’pose I’d orter’ve done hit, 
and I’d a great mind ter, but suthin’ sorter held me 
back. Onderstand that?” 

You’d a’ bin a nice man to’ve shot at us when we 
wuz cornin’ to help your comrades,” said Si, walking 
up coolly toward him, and getting near enough to pre- 
vent his leveling his gun, while he held his own ready 
for a quick blow with the barrel. “We needn’t’ve 
come back here at all, except that we felt it right 
to take care o’ the men that got hurt.” 

“Come back to take keer o’ the men that yo’uns 
swatted last night?” said the rebel incredulously. 
“That haint natural. ’Taint Yankee-like. What’d 
yo’uns keer for ’em, ’cept to see if they’uns’s dead 
yit, and mebbe gin ’em a prod with the bayonit to 
help ’em along? But they’uns’s mouty nigh dead, 
now. They’uns can’t last much longer. But I’ll kill 
the fust one o’ yo’uns that tries to prod one o’ they’- 
uns with a bayonit. Let they’uns alone. They’ll soon 
be gone.” 

“What’re you talkin’ about, you dumbed fool?” 
said Si, irritably. “We haint no Injuns nor heathens, 
to kill wounded men. We’re Injiannians and Chris- 
tians, what read the Bible, and foller what it says 
about lovin’ your enemies, and carin’ for them what 
despitefully use you — that is, after you’ve downed 
’em good and hard.” 

“Does your Bible say that ere ?” asked the rebel. 

“Yes, indeed.” 

“Well, hit must be a new-fangled kind of a Yankee 
Bible. The only Bible I ever seed was a piece o’ one 


THE FIRST LESSON IN FORAGING. 


133 


that used t’ be in dad’s house, and I’ve done beared 
strangers read hit aloud hundreds o’ times, and hit 
said nothin’ like that. Hit had lots in it ’bout killin’ 
every man and man-child, and hewin’ ’em to pieces 
afore the Lord, but nothin’ ’bout lovin’ and takin’ 
keer o’ them that wuz fernest ye.” 

“Well, it’s in there, all the same,” said Si im- 
patiently, “and you must mind it, same’s we do. 
Come, drop that gun, and help us take care o’ these 
men. They ain’t goin’ to die. We won’t let ’em. 
They’re all right. Just faint from loss o’ blood. We 
kin fix ’em up. Set your gun agin’ that beech there, 
and go to the branch and git some water to wash 
their wounds, and we’ll bring ’em around all right.” 

There was something so masterful in Si’s way, 
that the rebel obeyed. Si set his own gun down 
against a hickory, in easy reach, and had the boys 
do the same. He had naturally gained a good deal 
of knowledge of rough surgery in the army, and he 
proceeded to put it to use. He washed the wounds, 
stayed the flow of blood, and to take the rising fever 
out of the hurts, he bound on them fresh, green dock- 
leaves, wet with water. After the man he had struck 
had had his face washed, and his head thoroughly 
doused with cold water, he recovered rapidly and 
was soon able to sit up, and then rise weakly to his 
feet. 

The rebel looked on wonderingly. 

“Well, yo’uns is as good doctrin’ hurts as ole Sary 
Whittleton, and she’s a natural bone-setter,” he said. 

“Well, don’t stand around and gawk,” said Si 
snappishly. “Help. What’s your name?” 

“Gabe Brimster.” 


134 


SI KLEGG. 


“Well, Gabe, go down to the branch and git some 
more water, quick as you kin move them stumps o’ 
your’n. Give the men all they want to drink, and 
then pour some on their wounds. Then go there 
and cut some o’ them pawpaws, and peel their bark, 
to make a litter to carry your pardner back to the 
mill. Boys, look around for guns. Smash all you 
kin find on that rock there, so they won’t be of no 
more use. Bust the locks good, and bend the barrels. 
Save two to make the handles of the litter.” 

Si proceeded to deftly construct a litter out of the 
two guns, with some sticks that he cut with a knife, 
and bound with pawpaw strips. 

A few days before. Si, while passing near the hos- 
pital, saw a weak convalescent faint and fall. He 
rushed to the Surgeon’s tent, and that officer being 
busy, handed him a small bottle with a metal top, 
and filled with strong ammonia, telling him to 
unscrew the top and hold the bottle under the man’s 
nose. He did so, with thq effect of reviving him. Si 
thrust the bottle into his pocket, to help the man back 
to the hospital, and forgot all about it, until one after 
another of his present patients overdid himself, had 
a relapse, and fainted away. Si happened to feel his 
bottle, drew it out, unscrewed the top, thrust it under 
their noses, and revived them. 

Gabe’s eyes opened wider at each performance. He 
had never seen a bottle with a metal top, or one that 
unscrewed, or anything that seemed to effect such 
wonderful changes by merely pointing it at a man. 
His mountaineer intellect, prone to “spells” and 
“charms,” saw in it at once an instrument of morta: 
witchcraft. With a paling face, he began edging 


THE FIRST LESSON IN FORAGING. 


135 


toward his gun. Busy as Si had been, he had kept 
constantly in mind the possibility of Gabe’s attempt- 
ing some mischief, and did not let himself lose sight 
of the rebel's gun. He quickly rose, and with a few 
strides, placed himself between Gabe and his gun. 



^^MR. YANK, DON'T CONJURE ME." 


"‘Where are you goin'?" he said sternly. 

“I'm a-gwine away," replied the man, in terror- 
stricken accents. “I'm a-gwine away mouty quick. 
I don't want to stay here no longer." 


136 


SI KLEGG. 


“Indeed you’re not goin’ away. You’ll stay right 
with us, and help us take care o’ your comrades.” 

“I’m a-gwine away, I tell y’,” shrieked Gabe. “I’m 
gwine right away. I’m skeered o’ yo’uns. Yo’uns is 
no doctor, nor no sojer. Yo’uns is a conjure-man, 
and a Yankee conjure-man, too — wust kind. Yo’uns 
’ve bin puttin’ spells on them men, and yo’uns’ll put 
a spell on me. I’ve felt hit from the fust. I’m 
a-gwine away. Le’me go, quick.” 

Si caught the man roughly by the shoulder with 
his left hand, and raised his right threateningly. It 
still had the bottle in it. “You’re not goin’ a step, 
except with us,” he said. “Go back there, and ’tend 
to your business as I told you, or I’ll break you in 
two.” 

The sight of the dreadful bottle pointed at him 
completely unnerved the rebel. He fell on his knees. 

“0, Mister Yank — Mister Conjure-man! don’t put 
no spell on me. Pray to God, don’t I I had one on me 
wunst, when I was little, and liked to’ve died from 
hit. I haint no real rebel. I wuz conscripted into 
the army, or I wouldn’t be foutin’ yo’uns. I won’t 
font no more, if yo’uns’ll not put a spell on me. ’Deed 
I won’t I I swar to God I wont !” 

And he raised his right hand in testimony. 

“Put a spell on you? Conjure you? What dumbed 
nonsense!” ejaculated Si, and then his eyes caught 
the rebel’s fastened on the bottle in his hand, and a 
gleam of the meaning entered his mind. He had no 
conception of the dread the mountaineers have of 
being “conjured,” but he saw that something about 
the bottle was operating terrifically on the rebel’s 
mind and took advantage of it. He was in too much 


THE FIRST LESSON IN FORAGING. 


137 


of a hurry to inquire critically what it was, but said : 
“Well, I won’t do nothin’ to you, so long’s you’re 
good, but mind that you’re mighty good, and do just 
as I say, or I’ll fix you. Git up, now, and take hold 
o’ your pardner’s feet, and help me lift him on the 
litter. Then you take hold o’ the front handles. 
Monty, throw your gun-sling over your shoulder, and 
take hold o’ the rear handles. The two o’ you carry 
this man back. Alf, throw your gun-sling over your 
shoulder, put your arm under this man’s, and help 
him along. I’ll help this man.” 

They slowly made their way back toward the mill. 
As they came on the crest of the last rise, they saw 
Shorty and the rest eagerly watching for them. 
Shorty and the others ran forward and helped them 
bring the men in. Shorty was particularly helpful 
to the man he had shot. He almost carried him in 
to the mill, handling him as tenderly as if a child, 
fixed a comfortable place for him on the floor with 
his own blankets, and took the last grains of his 
coffee to make him a cup. This done, he said : 

“I’m goin’ out into the country to try and find 
some chickens to make some broth for you men. 
Come along, Harry Joslyn, Gid Mackall and little 
Pete.” 

The country roundabout was discouragingly poor, 
and had been thoroughly foraged over. But Shorty 
had a scent for cabins that were hidden away from 
the common roads, and so escaped the visitations of 
ordinary foragers. These were always miserably 
poor, but generally had a half-dozen chickens run- 
ning about, and a small store of cornmeal and side- 
meat. Ordinarily he would have passed one of these 


138 


SI KLEGG. 


in scorn, because to take any of their little store 
would starve the brood of unkempt children that 
always abounded. But now, they were his hope. 
He had been playing poker recently with his usual 
success, and as the bets were in Confederate money, 
he had accumulated quite a wad of promises to “Pay 
in gold, six months after the ratification of a Treaty 
of Peace between the Confederate States and the 
United States.'' He would make some mountaineer 
family supremely happy by giving them more money 
than they had ever seen in their lives, in exchange 
for their stock of meal, chickens and sidemeat. They 
would know where to get more, and so the trans- 
action would be a pleasant one all around. 

In the meanwhile, little Pete had visions of killing 
big game in the mountain woods. The interminable 
forest suggested to him dreams of bear, deer, buffalo, 
elk, and all the animals he had read about. It would 
be a great thing to bring down an elk or a deer with 
his Springfield rifle, and then be escorted back to 
camp in triumph, with the other boys carrying his 
game. He kept circling through the woods, in sight 
or hearing of the others, expecting every minute to 
come upon some animal that would fill his youthful 
sanguine hopes. 

Shorty at last found a poor little cabin such as he 
had been looking for. It was hidden away in a little 
cove, and had never been visited by the men of either 
army. It had the usual occupants — a weak-eyed, 
ague-smitten man, who was so physically worthless 
that even the rebel conscripters rejected him; a tall, 
gaunt woman, with a vicious shrillness in her voice 
and a pipe in her mouth ; a half score of mangy yel- 


THE FIRST LESSON IN FORAGING. 


139 


low dogs, and an equal number of wild> long-haired, 
staring children. They had a little “jag” of meal in 
a bag, a piece of sidemeat, and a half-dozen chickens. 
The man had that morning shot an opossum, lean 
from its Winter fasting. Shorty rejected this con- 
temptuously. 

“I've bin mighty hungry in my time,” said he, “but 
I never got quite so low down as to eat anything with 
a tail like a rat. That’d turn my stummick if I was 
famishin'.” 

The man looked on Shorty’s display of wealth with 
lack-luster eyes, but his wife was fascinated, and 
quickly closed up a deal which conveyed to Shorty all 
the food that they had. Just as Shorty had com- 
pleted payment, there came a shot from little Pete’s 
rifle, and the next instant that youth appeared at the 
edge of the cornpatch extending up hill from the 
cabin, hatless, and yelling at the top of his voice. 
Shorty and the others picked up their guns and took 
position behind the trees. 

“What’s the matter, Pete?” asked Shorty, as the 
boy came up, breathless from his long run. “Rebels 
out there?” 

“No,” gasped Pete. “I was hunting out there for 
a deer, or a elk, or a bear, when suddenly I come 
acrost the queerest kind of an animal. It looked more 
like a hog than anything else, yet it wasn’t a hog, 
for it was thinner’n a cat. It had long white tusks, 
longer’n your hand, that curled up from its mouth, 
little eyes that flashed fire, and great long bristles on 
his back, that stood straight up. I shot at it and 
missed it, and then it run straight at me. I made 
for the fence as hard as I could, but it outrun me and 


140 


SI KLEGG. 


was gaining on me every jump. Just as I dim the 
fence it a-most ketched me, and made a nip not six 
inches from my leg. I could hear him gnash them 
awful tusks o' his’n." 

“Humph,” said the woman. “He's run acrost 
Stevenson's old boar, that runs in them woods up 
thar, and is mouty savage this time o' year. He'd 
take a laig offen a youngster quicker'n scat, if he 
ketched him. He done well to run.” 

Shorty and the others walked up to the fence and 
looked over. There was the old razor-back King of 
the woods still raging around sniffing the air of com- 
bat. 

“Why, it's only a hog, Pete !” said Shorty. 

“Only a hog!” murmured Pete with shamed heart. 

“That a hog?” echoed the others. “Well, that's the 
queerest looking hog I ever saw.” 

“It's a hog all the same,” Shorty assured them. 
“A genuine razor-back hog. But he's got the seces- 
sion devil in him like the people, and you want to be 
careful of him. He ain't fit to eat or I'd kill him. 
Let's git back to the mill.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE OPENING OF THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN. 

W HAT an ineffably imposing spectacle of 
military power was presented to the May 
sun, shining on the picturesque mountains 
and lovely valleys around Chattanooga in the busy 
days of the Spring of 1864. 

Never before, in all his countless millions of 
journeys around the globe, had he seen a human 
force of such tremendous aggressive power concen- 
trated on such a narrow space. He may have seen 
larger armies — though not many — but he had never 
seen 100,000 such veterans as those — originally of 
as fine raw material as ever gathered under a 
banner, and trained to war by nearly three years of 
as arduous schooling as men ever knew, which sifted 
out the weaklings, the incompetents, the feeble- 
willed by the boisterous winnowing of bitter war. 

Thither had been gathered 35,000 of the Army of 
the Tennessee, who had “Fort Donelson,'’ “Shiloh,’' 
“Corinth,” “Chickasaw Bayou,” “Big Black, “Jack- 
son,” and “Vicksburg” in letters of gold on their 
tattered regimental banners, and whom Sherman 
proudly boasted were “the best soldiers on earth.” 
The courtly, idolized McPherson was their leader, 
with such men as John A. Logan, T. E. G. Ransom, 


( 141 ) 


142 


SI KLEGG. 


Frank P. Blair and P. J. Osterhaus as lieutenants 
and subordinates. 

There was the Army of the Cumberland, 60,000 
strong, from which all dross had been burned by 
the fierce fires of Shiloh, Perryville, Stone River and 
Chickamauga, and the campaigns across two States*^ 
“The noblest Roman of them all,” grand old “Pap” 
Thomas, was in command, with Howard, Stanley, 
Newton, Wood, Palmer, Davis, Joe Hooker, Williams 
and Geary as his principal lieutenants. 

And thither came — 15,000 strong — all of the 
Army of the Ohio who could be spared from garri- 
soning dearly-won Kentucky and East Tennessee. 
They were men who had become inured to hunting 
their enemies down in mountain fastnesses, and 
fighting them wherever they could be found. At 
their head was Gen. J. M. Schofield, whom the 
Nation had come to know from his administration 
of the troublous State of Missouri. Gens. Hovey, 
Hascall and Gox were division commanders. 

With what an air of conscious power; of evident 
mastery of all that might confront them; of calm, 
unflinching determination for the conflict, those men 
moved and acted. They felt themselves part of a 
mighty machine, that had its work before it, and 
would move with resistless force to perform the 
appointed task. 

The men fell instinctively into their ranks in the 
companies. Without an apparent effort the com- 
panies became regiments, the regiments quietly, but 
with swift certainty, swung into their places in the 
brigade, and the brigades massed up noiselessly into 
divisions and corps. 


THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN. 


143 


And while the 100,000 veterans were drilling, 
organizing and manuvering the railroad was strain- 
ing every one of its iron and steel tendons to bring 
in food and ammunition to supply the mighty host, 
and provide a store from which it could draw when 
it went forth upon its great errand. There were 
35,000 horses to be fed, in addition to the 100,000 
veterans, and so the baled hay made heaps that 
rivalled in size the foothills of the mountains. The 
limitless cornfields of Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois 
heaped up their golden harvests in other hillocks. 
Every mountain pass was filled with interminable 
droves of slow-footed cattle, bringing forward 
''army beef on the hoof.’' Boxes of ammunition and 
crackers, and barrels of pork covered acres, and the 
railroad brought them in faster than the hundreds 
of regimental teams could haul them out. 

There is no place in the world where the 
assembling of such a mighty host could be seen to 
such an advantage as at Chattanooga. The moun- 
tains that tower straight up into the clouds around 
the undulating plain on which the town stands form 
a glorious natural amphitheater about an arena for 
gigantic dramas. 

Naturally, the boys were big-eyed all the time 
with the sights that filled the landscape near and 
far. Wherever they looked they were astonished, 
and when in a march they came out on a crest that 
commanded a wide view, they could not help halting, 
to drink all its wonders in. Even the experienced Si 
and Shorty were as full of amazement as they, and 
watched with fascination the spectacle of mighty 
preparation and concentrated power. 


144 


SI KLEGG. 


One day they got a pass and took the boys over 
to Lookout Mountain, for a comprehensive survey 
of the whole scene. They trudged over the steep, 
rough, winding road up the mountainside, and made 
their way to Pulpit Rock, on the “nose” of the 
mountain, which commands a view that is hardly 
equalled in any country. From it they overlooked, as 
upon a map, the wide plain around Chattanooga, 
teeming with soldiers and horses, and piled-up war 
material, the towering line of Mission Ridge, the 
fort-crowned hills, the endless square miles of white 
camps. 

“ ‘The King sat on the rocky brow 
That looks o’er sea-born Salamis, 

And ships by thousands lay below. 

And men and Nations, all were his,’ 

murmured Monty Scruggs. “I didn’t suppose there 
was* as many soldiers in all the world before.” 

“Si,” said Shorty, “we thought old Rosecrans had 
heaped up the measure when we started out from 
Nashville for Stone River. But that was only the 
beginning for the gang he got together for the Tully- 
homy campaign, and ’taint more than onct to what 
old Sherman’s goin’ to begin business with. I like 
it. I like to see any man start into a game with a 
full hand and a big stack o’ chips.” 

“Well, from the talk that comes down from head- 
quarters,” said Si, “he may need every man. We’ve 
never had enough men so far. The rebels have 
always had more men than we did, and had the 
advantage of position. We only won by main 
strength and bull-headedness, and Rosecrans’s good 
management. The rebels are straining every nerve 


THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN. 


145 


to put up the fight o’ their lives, and they say old Jo 
Johnston’s got nearly as many men over there at 
Buzzard Boost as we have, and works that beat them 
we hustled Bragg out of around Tullyhomy.” 

“Well, let’s have it as soon as possible,” said 
Shorty. “I’m anxious to see if we can’t make an- 
other Mission Ridge over there at Buzzard Roost, 
and run them fellers clean back to the Gulf of 
Mexico. But, great Jehosephat, won’t there be a 
Spring freshet when all them men and horses and 
cattle break camp and start out over the country.” 

“Goodness, what kin I do to keep from gitting lost 
in all that crowd?” wailed Pete Skidmore, and the 
others looked as if his fears also struck their hearts. 

“Just stick doss to the 200th Injianny and to me, 
and you won’t git lost, Pete,” said Shorty. “The 
200th Injianny’s your home, and all real nice boys 
stay around home.” 

They made a little fire on the broad, flat surface 
of Pulpit Rock, boiled some coffee, and ate their din- 
ner there, that they might watch the wonderful 
panorama without interruption. As the afternoon 
advanced, they saw an unusual commotion in the 
camps, and the sound of enthusiastic cheering floated 
faintly up to their lofty perch. 

“I’ll bet a big red apple orders to move has come,” 
said Si. “Le’s git back to camp as quick as pos- 
sible.” 

They hurried down the mountain-side, and turned 
sharply to the right into the road to Rossville Gap. 

“Yes, the orders to move has come,” said Shorty. 
^‘See them big fires, and the boys burnin’ up things.” 

In every camp the cheering men were making 


146 


SI KLEGG. 


bonfires of the furnishings of their Winter camps. 
Chairs, benches, tables, checker-boards, cupboards, 
what-nots, etc., which had cost them considerable 
pains to procure, and upon which they had lavished 
no little mechanical skill, and sometimes artistic 
ornamentation, were ruthlessly thrown to feed the 
joyful fires which blazed in each camp which had 
been lucky enough to receive orders. The bands were 
playing, to emphasize and give utterance to the 
rejoicings of the men. 

Shorty took little Pete by the hand to assist him 
in keeping up with the rapid pace Si and he set up 
to get ^ack to their own camp, and participate in its 
demonstrations. 

'‘Of course, our rijimint’s goin’ too — goin’ to have 
the advance,'' Si said to Shorty^ more than anything 
else to quiet a little disturbing fear that would creep 
in. "They wouldn't leave it behind to guard one o’ 
these mud-piles they call forts, would they?” 

"They never have yit,” answered Shorty, hope- 
fully. "They say old Sherman is as smart as they 
make ’em. He knows a good rijimint when he sees 
it, and he's certain to want the 200th Injianny in the 
very foremost place. Hustle along, boys.” 

As they neared their camp they were delighted to 
find it in a similar uproar to the others, with the men 
cheering, the brigade band playing, and the men 
throwing everything they could find on the brightly 
blazing bonfires. Ordinarily, such a long march as 
they had made to the top of the Lookout Mountain 
and back again would have been very tiresome, but 
in the enthusiasm of the occasion they forgot their 
fatigue — almost forgot their hunger. 


THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN. 


147 


*^The orders are/' the Orderly-Sergeant explained 
to Si, as they were cooking supper, '‘that we’re to 
move out tomorrow morning in light marching 
order, three days’ rations, 80 rounds of cartridges, 
only blankets, no tents, but one wagon to a regi- 
ment, and one mule to a company to carry ammu- 
nition and rations. 0, we’re stripped down to the 
skin for a fight, I tell you. It’s to be business from 
the first jump, and we’ll be right in it. We’re to have 
the advance, and clear away the rebel cavalry and 
pickets, to open up the road for the rest of the 
division. You’ll find your rations and ammunition 
in front of my tent. Draw ’em and get everything 
ready, and go to sleep as soon as possible, for we’ll 
skin out of here at the first peep of day. There’s a 
whole passel of sassy rebel cavalry out in front, 
that’s been entirely too familiar and free, and we 
want to get a good whack at them before they know 
what’s up. 

And the busy Orderly passed on to superintend 
other preparations in the company. 

After drawing and dividing the rations and car- 
tridges, Si gave the boys the necessary instruction 
about having their things ready so that they could 
get them in the dark the next morning, and ordered 
them to disregard the bonfires and mirth-making, 
and lie down to get all the sleep they, could, in prep- 
aration for the hard work of the next day. Then, 
like the rest of the experienced ‘men, who saw that 
the campaign was at length really on, and this would 
be the last opportunity for an indefinite while to 
write, he sat down to write short letters to his 
mother and to Annabel. 


148 


SI KLEGG. 


Influenced by the example, Shorty thought he 
ought to write to Maria. He had received a second 
letter from her the day that he had gone out to the 
mill, and its words had filled his soul with a gladness 
that passed speech. The dispassionate reader would 
not have seen anything in it to justify this. He 
would have found it very commonplace, and full of 
errors of spelling and of grammar. But Shorty saw 
none of these. Shakspere could have written noth- 
ing so divinely perfect to him. He had not replied 
to it sooner, because he had been industriously 
thinking of fitting things to say in reply. Now he 
must answer at once, or postpone it indefinitely, and 
that meant so much longer in hearing again from 
her. He got out his stationery, his gold pen, his 
wooden inkstand, secured a piece of a cracker box 
for a desk, and seated himself far from Si as pos- 
sible among the men who were writing by the light 
of the pitch-pine in the bonfires. Then he pulled 
from his breast the silk bandana, and carefully de- 
veloped from its folds the pocket-book and Maria’s 
last letter, which he spread out and re-read several 
times. 

Commonplace and formal as the letter was, there 
was an intangible something in it that made him 
feel a little nearer the writer than ever before. 
Therefor, he began his reply : 

Dere Miss Maria Klegg: 

“I taik mi pen in hand to inform you that our 
walkin’-papers has at last come, and we start ter- 
morrer mornin’ for Buzzard Roost to settle jest 
whose to rool that roost. Our ideas and Mister Jo 


THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN. 


149 


Johnston’s differ on that subjeck. When we git 
through with him hele no more, though he probably 
won’t be so purty as he is now.” 



LITTLE PETE’S ''AWFUL REBELS.” 


He stopped to rest after this prodigious literary 
effort, and wipe the beaded sweat from his brow. 
He saw little Pete Skidmore looking at him with 
troubled face. 

"What’re you doin’ up, Pete? Lay down and go to 
sleep.” 


150 


SI KLEGG. 


“Say, Corpril, the Orderly said we wuz goin’ to 
fight a whole passel of rebel cavalry, didn't he?" 

“Um-hum!" assented Shorty, cudgeling his brain 
as to what he should next write. 

• “Them's them awful kind o' rebels, ain't they — 
the John Morgan kind — that ride big horses that 
snort fire, and they have long swords, with which 
they chop men's heads off?" 

“A lot o' yellin', gallopin' riff-raff," said Shorty, 
with the usual contempt of an infantryman for 
cavalry. “Ain't worth the fodder their bosses eat." 

“Ain’t they terribler than any other kind o’ 
rebels?" asked Pete, anxiously. 

“Naah," said Shorty, sharply. “Go to sleep, Pete, 
and don't bother me with no more questions. “Pm 
writin' a letter." He proceeded with his literary 
effort : 

“I was gladder than I kin tell you to git yore let- 
ter. You do write the best letters of any woman 
in the whole world" 

He looked up, and there was little Pete's face 
before him. 

“What do you do when one o' them wild rebels 
comes cavorting and tearing toward you, on a big 
boss, with a long sword, and yelling like a cata- 
mount?" he asked. 

“Paste him with a bullet and settle him," said 
Shorty testily, for he wanted to go on with his 
letter. 

“But s'pose he comes on you when your gun ain't 
loaded, and his sword is, or you've missed him, as I 
did that hog?" 

“Put on your bayonet and prod his boss in the 


THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN. 


151 


breast, and then give him 18 inches o’ cold steel. 
That’ll settle him. Go and lay down, Pete, I tell you. 
Don’t disturb me. Don’t you see I’m writing?” 

Shorty went on with his letter. 

“How I wish you w’ood rite offener. Ide like to get 
a letter from you every” 

“Say, Corpril,” broke in little Pete, “they say 
that them rebel cavalry kin reach much further with 
their swords when they’re up on a hoss than you kin 
with your gun and bayonit, especially when you’re 
a little feller like me, and they’re quicker’n wildcats, 
and there’s just millions of ’em, and” 

“Who says?” said Shorty savagely. “You little 
open-mouthed squab, are you lettin’ them lyin’, 
gassin, galoots back there fill you up with roorbacks 
about them triflin’, howlin’, gallopin’, rebel cavaby? 
Go back there, and tell ’em that if I ketch another 
man breathin’ a word to you about the rebel cavalry 
I’ll come and mash his head as flat as a pancake. 
Don’t you be scared about rebel cavalry. You’re in 
much more danger o’ bein’ struck by lightnin’ than 
of bein’ hit by a rebel on hossback. Go off and go to 
sleep, now, and don’t ask me no more questions.” 

“Can’t I ask you just one?” pleaded Pete. 

“Yes, just one.” 

“If we form a holler square agin cavalry will I be 
in the holler, or up on the banks?” 

For the first time in his life. Shorty restrained the 
merciless jeer that would come to his lips at any 
exhibition of weakness by those around him. The 
thought of Maria softened him and made him more 
sympathetic. He had promised h^r to be a second 
father to little Pete, He saw that the poor boy was 


152 


SI KLEGG. 


being frightened as he had never been before by the 
malicious fun of the veterans in pouring into his 
ears stories of the awful character of the rebel cav- 
alry. Shorty sucked the ink olf his pen, put his hand 
soothingly on Pete, and said in a paternally comfort- 
ing way : 

‘‘My boy, don’t let them blowhards back there 
stuff you with sich nonsense about the rebel cavalry. 
They won’t git near enough you to hit you with a 
sword half a mile long. They’re like yaller dogs — 
their bark’s the wust thing about ’em. I’ll look out 
for you. You’ll stay right by me, all the time, and 
you won’t git hurt. You go back there to my 
blankits and crawl into ’em and go to sleep. I’ll be 
there as soon’s I finish this letter. Forgit all about 
the rebel cavalry, and go to sleep. Ter-morrer 
you’ll see every mother’s son o’ them rebels breakin’ 
their boss’ necks to git out o’ range o’ our Spring- 
fields.” 

Then Shorty finished his letter: 

“Ime doin’ my best to be a second father to little 
Pete. Heze as good a little soul as ever lived, but 
when I taik another boy to raise it’ll be sumwhair 
else than in the army. 

“Yores, till deth.” 

Just then the silver-voiced bugles in hundreds of 
camps on mountain-sides, in glens, in the valleys, 
and on the plains began ringing out sweetly mourn- 
ful “Taps,” and the echoes reverberated from the 
towering palisades of Lookout to the rocky cliffs of 
the Pigeon Mountains. 

It was the last general “Taps” that mighty army 
would hear for 100 days of stormy battling. 


THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN. 


153 


The cheering ceased, the bonfires burned out. 
Shorty put his letter in an envelope, directed it, and 
added it to the heap at the Chaplain’s tent. 

Then he went back and arranged his things so that 
he could lay his hands unfailingly on them in the 
darkness of the morning, straightened little Pete out 
so that he would lie easier, and crawled in beside 
him. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE FIRST DAY OF THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN. 

A S usual, it seemed to the boys of the 200th Ind. 
that they had only lain down when the bugle 
blew the reveille on the morning of May 3, 

1864. 

The vigilant Orderly-Sergeant was at once on his 
feet, rousing the other “non-coms’" to get the men 
up. 

Si and Shorty rose promptly, and, experienced 
campaigners as they were, were in a moment ready 
to march anywhere or do anything as long as their 
rations and their cartridges held out. 

The supply of rations and cartridges were the 
only limitations Sherman’s veterans knew. Their 
courage, their willingness,, their ability to go any 
distance, fight and whip anything that breathed had 
no limitations. They had the supremest confidence 
in themselves and their leaders, and no more doubt 
of their final success than they had that the sun 
would rise in the morning. 

Vigorous, self-reliant manhood never reached a 
higher plane than in the rank and file of Sherman’s 
army in the Spring of 1864. 

Si and Shorty had only partially undressed when 
they lay down. Their shoes, hats and blouses were 


( 154 ) 


THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN. 


155 


with their haversacks under their heads. Instinct- 
ively, as their eyes opened, they reached for them 
and put them on. 

That was a little trick only learned by hard 
service. 

The partners started in to rouse their boys. As 
soon as these were fairly awake they became greatly 
excited. They had gone to sleep bubbling over with 
the momentousness of the coming day, and now that 
day had opened. 

There was a frantic scrambling for clothing, 
which it was impossible for them to find in the 
pitchy darkness. There were exclamations of boyish 
ill-temper at their failure. They thought the enemy 
were right upon them, and every instant was vital. 
Monty Scruggs and Alf Russell could not wait to 
dress, but rushed for their guns the first thing, and 
buckled on their cartridge-boxes. 

‘^Gid Mackall, you’ve got on my shoes,” screamed 
Harry Josyln. ^T can’t find ’em nowhere, and I laid 
’em right beside me. Take ’em off this minute.” 

'^Hain’t got your shoes on ; can’t find but one o’ my 
own,” snorted Gid in reply. '‘You helter-skelter 
little fly-up-the-crick, you never know where your 
own things are, and you lose everybody else’s.” 

“There’s my shoe,” exclaimed Harry, as he 
stumbled over one. 

“No; that’s mine. Let it alone — give it to me,” 
yelled Gid, and in an instant the two were locked 
together in one of their usual fights. 

Si snatched them apart, cuffed them, and lighted 
a bit of candle, which he kept for emergencies, to 
help them and the rest find their things. He im- 


156 


SI KLEGG. 


proved the occasion to lecture them as to the way 
they should do in the future. 

After awakening him, Shorty had calmed down 
the excited little Pete, found his shoes and other 
clothes for him, and seen that he put them on 
properly. 

‘^Have everything all right at startin’, Pete,” said 
he, '‘and you’ll be all right for the day. You’ll have 
plenty o’ time. The rebels’ll wait for us.” 

"Aint them them, right out there?” asked Pete 
nervously, pointing to the banks of blackness out 
in front. 

“No; them’s the same old cedar thickets they wuz 
when you went to bed. They hain’t changed a mite 
durin’ the night, except that they’ve got some dew on 
’em. You must git over seein’ bouggers wherever 
it’s dark. We’ll build a fire and cook some break- 
fast, and git a good ready for startin’. You must eat 
all you kin, for you’ll need all you kin hold before 
the day’s over.” 

Si was employed the same way in quieting down 
the rest; seeing that every one was properly clothed 
and had all his equipments, and then he gathered 
them around a little fire to boil their coffee and broil 
a piece of fresh beef for their breakfast. He had 
the hardest work getting them to pay attention to 
this, and eat all they could. They were so wrought 
up over the idea that the battle would begin at any 
minute that the sound of a distant bugle or any noise 
near would bring them up standing, to the utter dis- 
regard of their meal. 

“Take it cool, boys, and eat all you kin,” he ad- 
monished them. “It’s generally a long time between 


THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN. 


157 


meals sich times as these, and the more you eat now 
the longer you kin go without.’’ 

But the boys could not calm themselves. 

‘There, ain’t that rebel cavalry galloping and yell- 
ing?” one exclaimed; and they all sprang to their 
feet and stared into the darkness. 

“No,” said Shorty, with as much scorn as he could 
express with his mouthful of the last issue of soft 
bread that he was to get. “Set down. That’s only 
the Double Canister Battery goin’ to water. Their 
Dutch bugler can’t speak good English, his bugle 
only come to this country at the beginning o’ the 
war, and he’s got a bad cold in his head besides. 
Nobody kin understand his calls but the battery 
boys, and they won’t have no other. They swear 
they’ve the best bugler in the army.” 

“Set down! Set -down, I tell you,” Si repeated 
sternly, “and swaller all the grub you kin hold. 
That’s your first business, and it’s just as much your 
business as it is to shoot when you’re ordered to. 
You’ve got to lay in enough now to run you all day. 
And all that you’ve got to listen for is our own bugle 
soundin’ ‘Fall in I’ Don’t mind no other noise.” 

They tried to obey, but an instant later all leaped 
to their feet, as a volley of mule screechers mixed 
with human oaths and imprecations came up from 
a neighboring ravine. 

“There! There’s the rebels, sure enough,” they 
ejaculated, dropping their coffee and meat and rush- 
ing for their guns. 

“Come back and set down, and finish your br'eak- 
fast,” shouted Si. “That ain’t no rebels. That’s only 


158 


SI KLEGG. 


the usual family row over the breakfast table be- 
tween the mules and the teamsters/’ 

“Mules is kickin’ because the teamsters don’t wash 
their hands and put on white aprons when they come 
to wait on ’em,” suggested Shorty. 

The boys looked at him in amazement, that he 
should jest at such a momentous time. 

“There’s the ‘assembly’ now,” said Si, as the first 
streak of dawn on the mountain-top’ was greeted by 
the bugler at the 200th Ind.’s Headquarters, filling 
the chill air with stirring notes. 

“Put on your things. Don’t be in a hurry. Put 
on everything just right, so’s it won’t fret or chafe 
you during the march. You’ll save time by takin’ 
time now.” 

He inspected the boys carefully as it grew lighter, 
showed them how to adjust their blanket-rolls and 
canteens and heavy haversacks so as to carry to the 
best advantage, examined their guns, and saw that 
each had his full allowance of cartridges. 

“Here comes meat for the rebel cavalry,” shouted 
one of the older members of the company, as Si 
brought his squad up to take its place on the left of 
Co. Q. 

“I wouldn’t say much about rebel cavalry, if I was 
you. Wolf Greenleaf,” Si admonished the joker. 
“Who was it down in Kentucky that was afraid to 
shoot at a rebel cavalryman, for fear it would make 
him mad, and he might do something?” 

The laugh that followed this old-time “grind” on 
one of the teasers of new recruits silenced him, and 
encouraged the boys. 

As the light broadened, and revealed the familiar 


THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN. 


159 


hills and woods, unpeopled by masses of enemies, 
the shivery “2 o’clock-in-the-morning-feeling’" van- 
ished from the boys’ hearts, and was succeeded by 
eagerness to see the redoubtable rebels, of whom so 
much had been said. 

The companies formed up into the regiment on 
the parade ground, the Colonel mounted his horse, 
took his position on the right flank, and gave the 
momentous order: 

“Attention, battalion — Right face — Forward — file 
left— March !” 

The first wave rolled forward in the mighty 
avalanche of men, which was not to be stayed until, 
four months later, Sherman telegraphed North the 
glad message: 

“Atlanta is ours, and fairly won.” 

As they wound around and over the hills in front, 
they saw the “reserves,” the “grand guard,” and 
finally the pickets with their reserves drawn in, 
packed up ready for marching, and waiting for their 
regiments to come up, when they would fall-in. 

“There’s a h I’s mint of deviling, tormenting 

rebel cavalry out there beyond the hills,” they called 
out to the regiment. “Drop onto ’em, and mash ’em. 
We’ll be out there to help, if you need it.” 

“The 200th Injianny don’t need no help to mash 
all the rebel cavalry this side o’ the brimstone lakes,” 
Si answered proudly. “Much obliged to you, all the 
same.” 

“Capt. McGillicuddy,” commanded the Colonel, as 
they advanced beyond where the picket-line had 
been, “deploy your company on both sides of the 


160 


SI KLEGG. 


road, and take the advance. Keep a couple hundred 
yards ahead of the regiment.’' 

“Hooray,” said Si, “we’re in the lead again, and 
we’ll keep it till the end o’ the chapter. Co. Q, to 
the front and center.” 

They advanced noiselessly over the crest of a 
ridge, and the squad, which gained a little on the 
rest, saw a rebel videt sitting on his horse in the 
road some 200 or 300 yards away. The guns of the 
nervous boys were up instantly, but Si restrained 
them with a motion of his hand. 

“What’s the matter with him?” he asked Shorty, 
indicating the rebel. 

“Him and his hors’s wore out and asleep,” an- 
swered Shorty, after a minute’s study. “Look at 
his head and his boss’s.” 

“Kin we sneak up on him and git him?” asked Si. 

“Scarcely,” answered Shorty. “Look over there.” 

A squad of rebels were riding swiftly up the road 
toward the videt. 

“Shan’t I shoot him?” asked the nervous little 
Pete, lifting his gun to his face. 

“No, no; give him a show for his life,” answered 
Shorty, laying his hand on Pete’s gun. 

“It’d be murder to shoot him now.” Gi’ me 
your gun, Pete. Run down the road there apiece, 
and hit him or his horse with a stone and wake him 
up.” 

The boys, to whom a rebel was a savage wolf, to 
be killed any way that he could be caught, looked 
wonderingly at Si, who responded by a nod of ap- 
proval. 


THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN. 


161 


“Won’t he chop me with his sword?” asked Pete, 
still full of the terrors of that weapon. 

“We’ll look out for that. Go ahead, quick, Pete,” 
said Si. 

Poor little Pete, looking as if he was being sent to 
lead a forlorn hope, rushed frantically forward, 
picking up a stone as he ran, and hurled it with a 
true aim squarely against the rebel’s breast, who 
woke with a start, clutched his carbine, and stared 
around, while little Pete dashed into the brush to 
avoid his dreaded saber. 

“Look out for yourself, reb. We’re a-coming,” 
shouted Si. 

The rebel whirled his horse about, fired his carbine 
into the air, and sped back to his friends, while the 
squad rushed forward and took position behind 
trees. The rebels came plunging on. 

“Fire!” shouted Si. 

The guns of the squad crashed almost together. 
The bullets seemed to strike near, but without taking 
effect on any one of the rebels, who seemed to catch 
sight of the rest of Co. Q coming over the crest. They 
whirled their horses around, and started back on a 
sharp trot, while the boys were reloading. 

“Go ahead. Sergeant,” shouted Capt. McGilli- 
cuddy, from the rear. “Follow them up. We’re 
right behind you. Push them back on their re- 
serves.” 

“All right. Cap. Back they go,” shouted Si, 
leading forward his squad in a heavy-footed run 
down the road. They soon came to an opening of 


162 


SI KLEGG. 


somewhat level ground, made by the clearing around 
a cabin. 

The rebel squad halted beyond the cornfields, 
turned about, and opened fire. 

“Holy smoke, look there,” gasped Monty Scruggs, 
as a company of rebel cavalry came tearing over the 
hill in front, to the assistance of their comrades. 

“Them ain't many for cavalry,” said Shorty, as 
he and Si deployed the boys behind fence-corners, 
and instructed them to shoot carefully and low. 

“Sargint, see there, and there,” shouted Alf Rus- 
sell, as other companies of rebels came galloping 
through over the crest, while the first arrivals began 
throwing down the fences, preparatory to a charge. 

“Yes, there's about a rijimint,” Si answered 
coolly. “We'll need the most o' Co. Q to 'tend to them. 
Here they come.” 

“Sergeant, what's all this disturbance you’re kick- 
ing up in camp?” said Capt. McGillicuddy playfully, 
as he deployed Co. Q. “Can't you take a quiet walk 
out into the country, without stirring up the whole 
neighborhood?” 

“They seem to've bin at home and expectin’ us, 
Capt,” grinned Si, as he pointed to the augmenting 
swarm of horsemen. 

“There does seem to be a tolerably full house,” 
answered the Captain with a shrug. “Well, the more 
the merrier. Boys, shoot down those fellows who're 
tearing down the fences. That'll stop any rush on 
us, and we’ll develop their force.” 

“It's developing itself purty fast, seems to me. 
There comes another rijimint,” remarked Si. 

The firing grew pretty noisy. 


THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN. 


163 


Si was delighted to see how naturally his boys took 
to their work. After the first flurry of excitement 
at confronting the yelling, galloping horde, they 
crouched down behind their fence-corners, and 
loaded and fired as deliberately as the older men. 

^‘What sort of a breach of the peace is this you 
are committing, Capt. McGillicuddy?” asked Col. 
McBiddle, coming up at the head of the 200th Ind. 
''And do you want some accomplices?” 

"I believe if you'll give me another company I 
can make a rush across there and scatter those fel- 
lows,” answered the Captain. 

"All right. Take Co. A. Push them as far as you 
can, for the orders are to develop their strength at 
once. I'll follow close behind and help you develop, 
if you need me.” 

An instant later the two companies rushed across 
the field, making a bewildering transformation in 
the rebels' minds from charging to being charged. 
The rebels were caught before they could complete 
their formation. There was a brief tumult of 
rushes and shots and yells, and they were pushed 
back through the woods, with some losses in killed 
and wounded and stampeded horses. 

Si had led his squad straight across the field, 
against a group engaged in pulling down the fence. 
They were caught without their arms, and two were 
run down and captured. Palpitating with success, 
the boys rushed over to where the regiment was 
gathering itself together at the edge of the woods on 
the brow of the ridge. 

"Why don't they go ahead? What're they stoppin' 


164 


SI KLEGG. 


for? The whole rijimint^s up/’ Si asked, with a 
premonition of something wrong. 

“Well, I should say there was something to stop 
for,” answered Shorty, as they arrived where they 
could see, and found the whole country in front 
swarming with rebel cavalry as far as their eyes 
could reach. 

“Great Scott,” muttered Si, with troubled face, for 
the sight was appalling. “Is the whole Confederacy 
out there on hossback?” 

“0, my, do we have to fight all them?” whim- 
pered little Pete, scared as much by the look on 
Shorty’s face as at the array. 

“Shut up, Pete,” said Shorty petulantly, as a shell 
from a rebel battery shrieked through the woods 
with a frightful noise. “Git behind this stump here, 
and lay your gun across it. I’ll stand beside you. 
Don’t shoot till you’ve a bead on a man. Keep quiet 
and listen to orders.” 

A rebel brigade was rapidly preparing to charge. 
It stretched out far beyond the fianks of the regi- 
ment. 

“Steady, men! Keep cool!” rang out the clear, 
calm voice of the Colonel. “Don’t fire till they come 
to that little run in the field, and then blow out the 
center of that gang.” 

The brigade swept forward with a terrific yell. 
Si walked behind his squad, and saw that every 
muzzle was depressed to the proper level. 

The brigade came on grandly, until they reached 
the rivulet, and then a scorching blast broke out 
from the muzzles of the 200th Ind., which made 
them reel and halt. 


THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN. 


165 


Yells of '‘Close up, Alabamians!’’ “This way, 
Tennesseeans !” “Form on your colors, Georgians !’’ 
came from the rebels as the boys reloaded. Then 
all sounds were drowned in the rattling musketry, 
as the rebels began a hot fire from their saddles, in 
answer to the Union musketry. 

“Captain, they are moving out a brigade on either 
flank to take us in the rear,” said Col. McBiddle 
calmly to Capt. McGillicuddy. “We’ll have to fall 
back to the brigade. Pass the word along to retire 
slowly, firing as we go. The brigade must be near. 
You had better move your company over toward the 
right, to meet any attack that may come from that, 
direction. I’ll send Co. A toward the other flank.” 

It was a perilous movement to make in front of 
such overwhelming force. But the smoke curtained 
the manuver and the rebels only discovered it by the 
diminution of the fire in their front. Then they and 
the flanking brigades came on with ringing yells, and 
it seemed that the regiment was to be swept off the 
face of the earth. The 200th Ind. was not to be 
scared by yells, however, and sent such a galling fire 
from front and flanks, that the rebel advance lost its 
rushing impetus. The regiment was reaching the 
edge of the woods. The clear fields would give the 
rebel cavalry its chance. 

The whole command advanced, the moment the 
rebels began to break under the fire, across the fields 
and through the woods to the crest where the 200th 
Ind. had first tried to stop the swarming rebel horse- 
men. From there they could see the broad plain 
rapidly vacated by their enemies, hurrying away 
from the pursuing shells. 


166 


SI KLEGG. 


The Colonel’s clear, penetrating tones rang above 
the tumult: 

‘‘Attention, 200th Ind. ! Every man for himself 
across the fields. Rally on the fence beyond.” 

Shorty, whose face had been scratched by a bullet, 
took little Pete by the hand. “Now, run for it, my 
boy, as you never run before in your life. Hold on 
to your gun.” 

There was a wild rush, through a torrent of bul- 
lets, across the cleared space, and as he jumped the 
fence. Si was rejoiced to see his squad all following 
him, with Shorty dragging little Pete in the rear. 

They had scarcely struck the ground beyond, when 
it shook with the crash of artillery on the knoll 
above, and six charges of double canister tore 
wickedly into the surging mass of rebel cavalry. 

“The Double Canister Battery got up jest in the 
nick o’ time,” gasped Shorty, as he shoved little Pete 
down behind a big log. “It generally does, though.” 

“I’m glad the brigade wasn’t a mile off,” puffed Si, 
listening with satisfaction to the long line of rifles 
singing tenor to the heavy bass of the cannon. 

“Capt. McGillicuddy,” said the Colonel, “I ordered 
you to develop the enemy’s strength. Has it occurred 
to you that you somewhat overdid the thing?” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE EVENING AFTER THE BATTLE. 

RE AT Jehosephat, how hungry I am,” sud- 
\J" denly ejaculated Shorty, stopping his 
cheering, as the thunder of the guns died 
away into an occasional shot after the rebels gallop- 
ing back to the distant woods on the ridge from 
which they had emerged. 

'T must make some coffee. Wonder where I put 
my matches?” 

‘‘Here, Pete,” continued Shorty, as he broke off 
some splinters from the rails and started a little fire, 
“take my canteen and Si's and yours, and run down 
there and find a spring, and fill ’em, before the 
others make a rush. Be spry about it, for there’ll 
be a rush there in a minute, and you won’t have no 
chance.” 

The excited boy had to be spoken to a second time 
before he would come back to earth, much less com- 
prehend the want of water and food. Like the rest 
of his companions, the terrific drama which had 
just been enacted had wrought him to a delirium, in 
which he could think of nothing but a world full of 
bellowing cannon, and a nightmare of careering, 
plunging horses, with savagely-yelling riders. 

They could not realize that the battlecloud had 


( 167 ) 


168 


SI KLEGG. 


rolled away just as suddenly as it had burst upon 
them, and they stood there tightly grasping their re- 
loaded guns, and staring fixedly into the distance for 
the next horrid development. 

''I think you’ll find a spring right over there where 
you see that bunch o’ young willers, Pete,” said Si, 
handing him his canteen. ‘^Break for it, before any- 
body else gets there and muddies the water.” 

But Pete still stood rigid and unhearing, clutching 
his gun with a desperate grip, and glaring with bulg- 
ing, unmoving eyes across the plain. 

“Come, wake up, Pete,” said Shorty, giving him 
a sharp shake. “Do as I tell you, and on the jump. 
The fight’s over.” 

“The fight’s over?” stammered the boy. “Ain’t 
they coming back again?” 

“Not on their butternut-dyed lives they ain’t,” 
said Shorty scornfully. “They’ve got their dirty 
hides as full o’ lickin’ as they kin hold for one day. 
They’ll set around for a while, and rub their hurts, 
and try to think out jest how it all happened.” 

“Skip out, Pete,” Si reminded the boy. “The rest 
o’ you boys stack your guns and foller Pete.” 

“Hadn’t we better take our guns along?” sug- 
gested Monty, holding on to his with grim fearful- 
ness. 

“No. Stack ’em; stack ’em, I tell you,” said Si 
impatiently. “And be quick about it. They’ll all git 
ahead o’ you. Don’t you see the rest stackin’ arms?” 

The boys obeyed as if dazed, and started to follow 
little Pete’s lead toward the clump of willows. 

The boy, full of the old nick, found an Orderly’s 
horse nipping the grass close by the path to the 


THE EVENING AFTER THE BATTLE. 


169 


spring and, boy like, jumped on its back. The clatter 
of the canteens frightened the horse, and he broke 
into a dead run. 

Do ye s’pose the fight’s really over?” whispered 
Pete to Alf Russell, who was just behind him. “Don’t 
you think the rebels just let go to get a fresh hold?” 

“Seems so to me,” answered Alf. “Seems to me 



LITTLE pete’s HORSE BOLTS. 


there was just millions of ’em, and we only got away 
with a little passel, in spite of all that shootin’. 
Why, when we come out on the ridge the valley down 
there seemed fuller of ’em than it was at first.” 

“We oughtn’t to get too far away from our guns,” 
said Monty Scruggs. “Them woods right over there 
may be full o’ rebels watching to jump us when we 
get far enough away.” 


170 


SI KLEGG. 


“I don’t like the looks of that hill to the left,” said 
Gid Mackall, nervously. “An awful lot o’ them went 
behind it, and I didn’t see any come out.” 

“There, them bushes over there are shaking — 
they’re coming out again,” said Harry Joslyn, turn- 
ing to run back for his gun. 

“No, not there,” nervously interjected Hum- 
phrey’s, turning with him; “ain’t there something 
stirring down there by the crick?” 

“No, no,” said Sandy Baker, desperately. “It’s 
just that blame fool Pete. Come on! Come on! 
We’ve got to. We were ordered to. Le’s make a 
rush for it, like the men in the Indian stories done 
when they was sent for water.” 

They acted on the suggestion with such vim that 
when Pete’s horse tripped at the edge of the little 
run, and sent Pete over its head with a splash into 
the mud and water, the rest tumbled and piled on 
top of him. 

The men on the hill, who had noticed it, set up a 
yell of laughter, which scared the boys worse than 
ever, for they thought it meant the rebels were on 
them again. 

'Now, what new conniption’s struck them dumbed 
little colts?” said Si, irritably, as he strode down to 
them, pulled them out, and set- them on their feet, 
with a shaking and some strong words. 

“Is the rebels coming again?” gasped Pete, rub- 
bing the mud and water out of his eyes. 

“No, you little fool,” said Si. “The rebels ain’t 
cornin’. They’re goin’ as fast as their horses kin 
carry ’em. They’ve got through cornin’ for today. 


THE EVENING AFTER THE BATTLE. 


171 


There ain’t one of ’em within cannon-shot, and won’t 
be till we go out and hunt ’em up again. You’ve 
come near spilin’ the spring with your tormented 
foolishness. What on earth possessed you to climb 
that hoss? You need half killin’, you do. Go up 
higher there and fill your canteens from where the 
water’s clear. Be slow and careful, and don’t rile 
the water. Say, I see some nice sassafras over there. 
I always drink sassafras tea this time o’ year. It 
cleans the blood. I’m goin’ over and see if I can’t git 
a good root while you’re fillin’ your canteens.” 

Si walked out some distance in front of them, pull- 
ing as he walked some of the tender, fragrant, spicy 
young leaves of the sassafras, and chewing them 
with gusto. Arriving at the top of a rise he selected 
a young shrub, pulled it up, carefully loosed its root 
from the mulchy soil, and cut it off with his knife. 
His careless deliberation calmed the overwrought 
nerves of the boys, and when he returned they had 
their canteens filled, and walked back composedly to 
the fires, when they suddenly remembered that they 
were as hungry as Si and Shorty, and fell to work 
cooking their suppers. 

“Is that the way with the rebel cavalry?” asked 
Monty Scruggs, with ’his mouthful of crackers and 
meat. “Do they come like a hurricane, and disap- 
pear again like an April shower?” 

“That’s about it,” answered Shorty disdainfully. 
“That’s the way with all cavalry, dad-burn ’em. 
They’re like a passel o’ fice pups. They’re all yelp 
and bark, and howl and showin’ o’ teeth. They’re 
jest goin’ to tear you to pieces. But when you pick 


172 


SI KLEGG. 


up a stone or a club, or git ready to give ’em a good 
kick they’re gone, the devil knows where. They’re 
only an aggravation. You never kin do nothin’ with 
’em, and they kin do nothin’ with you. I never kin 
understand why God Almighty wasted his time in 
makin’ cavalry of any kind, Yank or rebel. All our 
own cavalry’s good for is to steal whisky and 
chickens from honest soldiers of the infantry. The 
infantry’s the only thing. It’s like the big dog that 
comes up without any special remarks, and sets his 
teeth in the other dog. The thing only ends when 
one dog or the other is badly whipped and somethin’s 
bin accomplished.” 

“Will we have to fight them cavalry again tomor- 
row jest the same way?” asked little Pete, still some- 
what nervously. 

“Lord only knows,” answered Shorty indifferently, 
feeling around for his pipe. “A feller never knows 
when he’s goin’ to have to fight rebel cavalry any 
more’n he knows when he’s goin’ to have the tooth- 
ache. The thing just happens, and that’s all there 
is of it.” 

Si and Shorty, having finished their suppers, 
lighted their pipes, and strolled up through the regi- 
ment to talk over with the others the events of the 
day and the probabilities of the morrow. 

Left alone, the tongues of the excited boys became 
loosened, and ran like the vibrations of a cicada’s 
rattle. 

“Wasn’t it just wonderful?” said Monty Scruggs. 
“It looked as if a million circuses had suddenly let 
out over there. 


THE EVENING AFTER THE BATTLE. 


173 


‘‘ The Assyrians came down like a wolf on the fold, 
And their cohorts were gleaming with purple and 
gold.’ 

Only there didn’t seem much purple and gold about 
them. Seemed mostly brown rags and slouch hats 
and long swords. Gracious, did you ever see any- 
thing as long and wicked as them swords ! Seemed 
that every one was pointing directly at me, and 
they’d reach me the very next jump.” 

‘'Of course, you thought they were all looking 
at you,” said Alf Russell. “That’s your idea, always, 
wherever you are. You think you’re spouting on the 
platform, and the center of attraction. But I knew 
that they were all looking at me, as folks generally 
do.” 

“More self-conceit,” sneered Harry Joslyn. “Just 
because you’re so good looking, Alf. I knew that 
they weren’t bothering about any boy orator, who 
does most of his shooting with his mouth, nor any 
young pill-peddler, who sings in the choir, and goes 
home with the prettiest girl. They were making 
a dead set on the best shot in the crowd, the young 
feller who’d come into the war for business, and 
told his folks at home before he started that he was 
going to shoot Jeff Davis with his own hand before 
he got back. That was me. I saw the Colonel of 
one o’ the regiments point his sword straight at me 
as they came across the run, and tell his men to be 
sure and get me of all others.” 

“Why didn’t you shoot him, if you’re such a dead- 
shot?” asked Gid Mackall. 

“Why, I was just loading my gun, when I saw him. 


174 


SI KLEGG. 


and as I went to put on the cap you were shaking 
so that it jarred the cap out of my hand, and before 
I could get another, the smoke became so thick I 
couldn't see anything.” 

''I shaking?” said Gib, with deep anger. “Now, 
Harry Josyn” 

“Come, boys; don't have a scrap, now,” pleaded 
the serious-minded Alf. “Just think how many 
dead men are lying around. It looks like raising a 
disturbance at a funeral.” 

“That's so,” said Jake Humphreys. “I don't think 
any of us is in shape to throw up anything to another 
about shaking. I own up that I was never so scared 
in all my life, and I feel now as if I ought to get 
down on my knees before everybody, and thank God 
Almighty that my life was spared. I ain’t ashamed 
to say so.” 

“Bully for you, Jake,” said Monty Scruggs, 
heartily. “We all feel that way, but hain’t the nerve 
to say so. I wish the Chaplain would come around 
and open a meeting of thanksgiving and prayer.” 

“I tell you what's the next best thing,” suggested 
Jake Humphreys. “Let Alf Russell sing one of those 
good old hymns they used to sing in the meetings 
back at home.” 

“Home!” How many thousands of miles away — 
how many years of time away — seemed to those 
flushed, overwrought boys, bivouacking on the dead- 
strewn battlefleld, the pleasant cornflelds, the bloom- 
ing orchards, the drowsy hum of bees, the dear 
homes, sheltering fathers, mothers, and sisters ; 
the plain white churches, with their faithful, gray- 
haired pastors, of the fertile plains of Indiana. 


THE EVENING AFTER THE BATTLE. 


175 


Alf Russell lifted up his clear, far-reaching boyish 
tenor, that they had heard a thousand times at 
devout gatherings, at joyful weddings, at sorrowing 
funerals, in that grandest and sweetest of hymns : 

‘‘All hail the power of Jesus’ name; 

Let angels prostrate fall. 

Bring forth the royal diadem. 

And crown Him Lord of All.” 

As far as his voice could reach, the rough soldiers, 
officers and men, stopped to listen to him — listened 
to him with emotions far too deep for the cheers that 
usually fly to the lips of soldiers at anything that 
stirs them. The higher officers quit talking of the 
plans of the morrow; the minor ones stopped, pen 
in hand, over their reports and requisitions; the 
busy Surgeons stayed their keen knives; the fussy 
Orderly-Sergeants quit bothering about rations and 
details ; the men paused, looked up from their cards 
and cooking until the hymn was sung through. 

The voice was so pure, so fresh, so redolent of all 
that had graced and sweetened their far-off past, 
that it brought to each swarming emotions for which 
there was no tongue. 

“Bully for you, Alf; you’re a sweet singer in 
Israel,” said Si, brushing away a suspicion of a tear. 
“Spread out your blankets, boys, and lay down. Git 
all the sleep you kin, for there’s lots o’ work for us 
tomorrow. There goes tattoo!” 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE FIGHTING AROUND BUZZARD ROOST AND CAPTURE 
OF THE REBEL STRONGHOLD. 

F or the next few days there was a puzzling maze 
of movements, which must have completely 
mystified the rebel Generals — as was intend- 
ed — for it certainly passed the comprehension of our 
own keen-eyed and shrewdly-guessing rank-and-file 
and lower officers. 

Regiments, brigades and divisions marched hither- 
and-yon, wound around and over the hills and 
mountains, started out at a great rate in the morn- 
ing, marched some distance, halted apparently half- 
way, and then perhaps went back. Skirmishing, 
that sometimes rose to the proportions of a real 
battle, broke out at unexpected times and places, 
and as unexpectedly ended. Batteries galloped into 
position, without much apparent warning or reason, 
viciously shelled some distant point, and then, as the 
infantry were girding up themselves for something 
real to follow all the noise, stopped as abruptly as 
they had begun, and nothing followed. 

This went on so long, and apparently so purpose- 
lessly, that even the constant Si and Shorty were 
shaken a little by it. 

“It can’t be,” said Shorty to Si, one evening after 


( 176 ) 


CAPTURE OF REBEL STRONGHOLD. 


177 


they had gone into bivouac, and the two had drawn 
away from the boys a little, to talk over things by 
themselves, “that old Sherman’s got one o’ his crazy 
fits again, can it? They say that sometimes he gits 
crazier’n a March hare, and nobody kin tell just 
when the fit’ll come on him. I never did see so much 
criss cross work as we’ve bin doin’ for the last few 
days. I can’t make head nor tail of it, and can’t find 
anybody else that kin.” 

“I can’t make it out no more than you kin,” as- 
sented Si. “And I’ve thought o’ that crazy idee, too. 
You know them boys over there in Rousseau’s old 
division was under Sherman once before, when he 
was in command at Louisville, and they say that he 
got crazier’n a locoed steer — actually looney, so’s 
they had to relieve him and send him back home to 
git cured. They’d be really scared about things, but 
their officers heard old Pap Thomas say that things 
wuz goin’ along all right, and that satisfied ’em. I 
ain’t goin’ to worry so long’s old Thomas is in com- 
mand o’ the Army o’ the Cumberland, and we’re in 
it. He’ll take care that things come out straight.” 

“You bet,” heartily agreed Shorty. “The Army 
o’ the Cumberland’!! be all right as long as he’s on 
deck, and he kin take care o’ the other armies, too, 
if they git into trouble. I struck some o’ the Army 
o’ the Tennessee when I went back with them 
prisoners today, and got talkin’ with ’em. I asked 
’em if Sherman wasn’t subject to crazy fits, and they 
said yes, he had ’em, but when he did he made the 
rebels a mighty sight crazier’n he was. They went 
on to say that we’d git used to Sherman after awhile. 


178 


SI KLEGG. 


and he’d show us some kinks in soljerin’ that we 
never dreamed of.” 

“Sich plaguey conceit,” muttered Si. 

“I should say so. But I never seen anybody so 
stuck on theirselves as them Army o’ the Tennessee 
fellers. Just because they took Vicksburg” 

“With all the navy to help ’em,” interjected Si. 

“Yes, with more gunboats than we have army 
wagons. They think they know more about soljerin 
than anybody else in the world, and ackchelly want 
to give us p’ints as to how to git away with the 
rebels.” 

“The idee,” said Si scornfully. “Talkin’ that way 
to the best soljers in the world — the Army o’ the 
Cumberland. I hate conceit, above all things. I’m 
glad I hain’t none of it in me. ’Tain’t that we say 
it, but everybody knows it that the Army o’ the Cum- 
berland’s the best army in the world, and the 200th 
Injianny” 

“I told ’em that the Army o’ the Cumberland was 
the best army, because it had the 200th Injianny in 
it, and, would you believe me, they said they’d never 
even heard o’ the 200th Injianny?” 

“Sich ignorance,” groaned Si. “Can’t they read? 
Don’t they git the papers?’’ 

“There’d bin a fight right there, if it hadn’t bin 
for the officers. I wanted awfully to take a fall out 
of a big Sergeant who said that Thomas might be 
a good enough man for Chairman of a convention 
o’ farmers, but when he went to war he wanted to 
have sich leaders as Sherman, McPherson, and 
Logan, and Osterhausv But he’ll keep. We agreed 
to see each other later, when we’ll have a private 


CAPTURE OF REBEL STRONGHOLD. 179 

discussion, and if he has any head left on him he’ll 
freely acknowledge that nobody in the Army o’ the 
Tennessee is fit to be named in the same day with 
Pap Thomas.” 

“Better turn him over to me, Shorty,” said Si, 
meditatively. “I think I’m in better shape for an 
argument just now than you are. You’ve bin doing 
a good deal in the last few days, and I’m afraid 
you’re a little run down.” 

“No; he’s my meat. I found him, and I’ll take 
care o’ him. But there’s just one thing that re- 
conciles me to this business. In spite o’ all this 
sashayin’ and monkeying we seem to be continually 
edgin’ up cluster to them big cliffs where the rebels 
are, and something’s got to bust purty soon. It’s 
jist like it was at Tullyhomy, but old Rosecrans ain’t 
runnin’ things now.” 

“But Thomas is in the center, as he was then, and 
we’re with him,” said Si hopefully. “There’s tattoo. 
Le’s crawl in.” 

The other boys had been affected according to 
their various temperaments by the intricate and be- 
wildering events of the past few days. The first day 
or two they were all on the tenter-hooks of expecta- 
tion and anxiety. Every bugle-call seemed to be a 
notice for them to rush into the great battle. Every 
time they saw a regiment moving, they expected to 
follow and fall into line with it. They wondered why 
they were not sent in after every skirmish-line they 
saw advancing. When a rebel battery opened out 
in the distance they girded themselves in expectation 
of an order to charge it. But Si and Shorty kept 
admonishing them that it would be time enough for 


180 


SI KLEGG. 


them to get excited when the 200th Ind. was called 
on by name for something; that they were not ex- 
pected to fight the whole campaign, but only to do a 
limited part of it, and they had better take things 
easy, and save themselves for their share when it 
should come to them. 

It was astonishing how soon they recognized this, 
and settled down to more or less indifference to 
things that did not directly concern their own regi- 
ment. They were just at the age to be imitative, and 
the example of the veterans around them had a 
strongly-repressive effect. 

So, after the second or third day of the turmoil of 
the opening campaign, they ceased to bother them- 
selves openly, at least, as to why their regiment did 
not move when others did, as to why they did not 
go to the help of others that were fighting, and as to 
when they were to be summoned to make a desperate 
assault upon the frowning palisades of rock which 
were literally alive with rebels and belching cannon. 

When the regiment was lying still they occupied 
and amused themselves, as did the others, accord- 
ing to their several bents. The medical-minded Alf 
Russell watched the movements and deportment of 
the Surgeons at every opportunity, and was 
especially interested in everything that he could 
catch a glimpse of, from feeling a man’s pulse to 
extracting a bullet. The lathy Gid Mackall, whose 
appetite did not need the sharpening it got from the 
free mountain air, put in much of his time cooking, 
all possible variations of his rations with anything 
else that he could get hold of, and devouring the 
product with eagerness. In spite of Si’s strict 


CAPTURE OF REBEL STRONGHOLD. 


181 


prohibition against card-playing, the sleepy headed 
Jim Humphreys was rapidly, but secretly, mastering 
all the tricks and mysteries of camp gambling, and 
becoming an object of anxiety to the older gamesters 
whenever he pitted himself against them. Sandy 
Baker, whose tastes ran to mechanics, “tinkered” 
constantly with his rifle and equipments, studying 
the nature and inner workings of every part, and 
considering possible improvements. Sprightly Harry 
Joslyn was fascinated with the details of soldiering, 
and devoted himself to becoming perfect in the 
manual of arms and the facings. Little Pete Skid- 
more was keenly alive to all that was going on, and 
wanted to know everything. When he could trust 
himself not to get lost from his regiment, he would 
scurry over to the nearest one, to find out who they 
were, where they had come from, what they had 
been doing, and whither they were likely to go. But 
Monty Scruggs was constantly in the public eye, as 
he loved to be. His passion for declamation pleased 
officers and men. He really declaimed very well, 
and it was a reminder to them of home and the 
long-ago school days to hear him “spout” the old- 
time Friday afternoon favorites. 

Therefore he was always called upon whenever 
there was nothing else to engage the men’s attention, 
and his self-confidence and vanity grew rapidly upon 
the liberal applause bestowed on him. He was a 
capital mimic, too, and daring as well, and it was 
not long before he began to “take off” those around 
him, which his comrades enjoyed even more than 
his declamations. 


182 


SI KLEGG. 


The 11th of May, 1864, saw all the clouds of battle 
which had been whirling for days in such apparently 
diverse directions, gathering about the deep gorge 
in Rocky Face Ridge through which the railroad 
passed. “Buzzard Roost,” as this was named, was 
the impregnable citadel behind which the rebel army 
had taken refuge after its rout at Mission Ridge the 
previous November, and the rebel engineers had 
since exhausted every effort to make it still more 
unassailable. The lofty mountain rose precipitously 
for hundreds of feet on either side the narrow gorge, 
and the last hundred feet was a sheer wall of per- 
pendicular rock. The creek which ran through the 
gorge had been dammed, so that its waters formed 
a broad, deep moat before the mouth of the gorge. 
The top of the ridge swarmed with men, and to the 
rear of the gorge guns were massed in emplacements 
to sweep every foot of the passage. 

It seemed madness to even think of forcing such 
a pass. A thousand men in the shelters of that 
fastness could beat back myriads, and it was known 
that Joe Johnston had at least 50,000 behind the 
Ridge. Yet Sherman was converging great rivers 
of men from the north, the northwest and west down 
upon that narrow gap, as if he meant to move the 
eternal rocks by a freshet of human force. 

The rebels thrown out in advance of the gorge, on 
outlying hills, rocks and cliffs, were swept backward 
and into the gap by the resistless wave of blue roll- 
ing forward, fiery and thundering, gathering force 
and vehemence as it converged into a shortening 
semi-circle about the rugged stronghold. 

The 200th Ind. moved forward and took its place 


CAPTURE OF REBEL STRONGHOLD. 


183 


in the line on a hill commanding a view of the en- 
trance to the gorge, and there waited its orders for 
the general advance, which seemed imminent any 
instant. 

For miles to the right and left the woods were 
crackling with musketry, interspersed with the 
booming of fieldpieces. 

The regiment had stacked arms and broken ranks. 

For an hour or two the men had studied with 
intense eagerness the bristling fortifications of the 
gap and the swarming foemen at the foot of and 
on the summit of the high walls of rock. They had 
listened anxiously to the firing to the right and left, 
and tried to make out what success their comrades 
on other parts of the long crescent were having. They 
had watched the faces of the officers to read there 
how the battle was going. 

But one after another found this tiresome after 
awhile and set himself to his usual camp employ- 
ments and diversions. Some got out needles and 
thread, and began repairing their clothes. Some 
gathered in groups and smoked and talked. Many 
produced the eternal cards, folded up a blanket for a 
table, and resumed their endless sevenup and euchre 
or poker for buttons and grains of corn. Jim 
Humphreys found his way into one of these games, 
which was played behind a clump of bushes, and the 
buttons represented dimes. He was accumulating 
fractional currency. Gid Mackall embraced the 
opportunity to cook for himself a savory stew with 
some onions distributed by the Sanitary Commis- 
sion. Sandy Baker went over his gun, saw that 
every screw was properly tight, and dropped the 


184 


SI KLEGG. 


tiniest amount of oil on the trigger and the hammer, 
to ease their working. Pete Skidmore wandered 
down to the flank of the next regiment to find out if 
anything new had occurred. Harry Joslyn got him- 
self into the exact “position of a soldier,” with his 
heels together, his toes pointed at an angle of 45 
degrees, and went through the manual of the piece 
endlessly. Si and the Orderly-Sergeant communed 
together about the rations for the company, and the 
various troubles there was always on the Orderly’s 
mind about the company’s management. Shorty got 
off by himself, produced from his breast his memen- 
toes of Maria, and read over her last letter for the 
thousandth time, though he knew every word in it. 
But he seemed to get a new and deeper meaning 
every time he read it. 

Groups of officers would come up to a little rise in 
front, study the distant ridge with their glasses for 
awhile, and then ride away. 

A couple of natty young Aids followed their 
superiors’ example, rode up, dismounted, and studied 
the enemy’s position with great dignity and earnest- 
ness, that it might have full effect upon the brigade 
behind them. 

Monty Scruggs saw his opportuniy. He bound 
some tin cans together to represent field glasses, 
mounted a stump, and began intently studying Buz- 
zard Roost. 

This attracted the attention of the others. 

“What do you see, Monty?” they shouted. 

“See?” answered he. “Just lots and gobs. I see 
old Joe Johnston over there, with Pat Cleburne, and 
Hood and Bragg, and Joe Wheeler. They’re all to- 


CAPTURE OF REBEL STRONGHOLD. 185 

gether, and pulling off their coats, and rolling up 
their sleeves, and shaking their fists at the 200th 
Ind., and daring it to come on.” 



MONTY SEES THINGS, TOO. 


“Tell ’em not to sweat. Just hold their horses. 
We’ll be over presently,” shouted the others, with 
yells of laughter. “What else do you see?” 


186 


SI KLEGG. 


The young Aids turned around and glanced 
angrily at Monty and the laughing crowd. 

‘T see old Jeff Davis there, with his Cabinet of 
traitors. He’s writing a fresh proclamation to his 
people, with his blind eye, and has got his good one 
fixed on the 200th Ind., which he’s telling Joe John- 
ston is bound to give him more trouble than all the 
rest o’ the army.” 

“Good ! Good !” yelled the rest. “So we will. Old 
Jeff’s right for once. What else do you see?” 

“Stop that, my man,” said one of the Aids sav- 
agely. “You’re disturbing us.” 

“Go ahead, and don’t mind ’em,” shouted the 
others. “They’re only Second Lieutenants any way. 
Tell us what you see.” 

“I see way by Richmond, old Unconditional Sur- 
render Grant’s got Bob Lee by the throat, and’s just 
wipin’ up the State of Virginny with him. Lee’s 
eyes is bulging out like gooseberries on a limb, and 
his tongue’s hanging down like a dog’s on a hot 
day” 

“Get down off that stump at once, and go back to 
your place,” said the Aid authoritatively. 

“Don’t mind him. He’s only a staff officer. He 
can’t order you.' Go ahead,” shouted the rest. 

“I see a couple o’ young Second Lieutenants,” 
started Monty, but the Aid sprang at him, and in an 
instant there was a rush of the other boys to defend 
him. Capt. McGillicuddy, who was usually conveni- 
ently deaf and blind to the boys’ skylarking, looked 
up from the paper he was reading, hurried to the 
scene, quieted the disturbance, ordered Monty to get 
down and go back, and spoke sharply to the Aid 


CAPTURE OF REBEL STRONGHOLD. 


187 


about paying any attention to the men’s harmless 
capers. 

The bugle blew ‘‘Attention,” and everybody 
sprang to his place, and waited eagerly for the next 
command. 

“Men,” said the Colonel, in his gentle, sweet voice, 
which, however, was distinctly audible to the 
farthest flank of the regiment, “we are ordered to 
help our comrades by attacking the mountain over 
there. You see what is before you, and that it will 
be terrible work, but I know that you will do all that 
you can do for the honor of dear old Indiana.” 

An enthusiastic cheer answered him. 

“Battalion — Take — Arms !” commanded the 
Colonel. Right face — Forward — File left — March!” 

The regiment filed down through the woods on the 
hillside, and as it came into the opening at the bot- 
tom was greeted by a volley from a battery on Rocky 
Face Ridge. The shells screamed viciously over the 
heads of the men, and cut through the tops of the 
trees with a deafening crash. 

“Wastin’ good cast-iron on the landscape, as 
usual,” laughed Shorty, to encourage the boys. “I 
always wonder how the rebels pick out the fellers 
they make cannoneers of. When they git hold of a 
feller who can’t shoot so’s to hit anything less’n a 
Township set up edgewise, they put him in the 
artillery.” 

“Mebbe they’ll come closter next time,” said little 
Pete with a shiver, as he trotted a little nearer 
Shorty. 

“Naah, they’ll never come no closter,” said Shorty, 
contemptuously. “They couldn’t hit even the side 


188 


SI KLEGG. 


o’ the mountain if it wasn’t in their way and no 
place else for the ball to go.” 

Just then a shell screamed so close above Shorty 
that he involuntarily ducked his head. 

“What makes you juke, if they can’t hit noth- 
ing?” inquired little Pete, and the rest of them had 
regained composure enough to laugh. 

“0,” said Shorty composedly, “that feller wasn’t 
shootin’ at me. He was shootin’ at the 1st Oshkosh, 
which is a quarter of a mile behind. If he’d hit me 
it’d ’a bin an accident, and I don’t want no accidents 
to happen just now.” 

Approaching the cleared space in the center of the 
valley, the regiment went into line in the brush and 
pushed through to the edge of the woods. The mo- 
ment that it appeared in the fringe of brushwood a 
sharp volley came from the line of rebels in the 
brush along the opposite side of the clearing. Evi- 
dently they were not expecting an advance at that 
moment, for their firing was wild, and wounded but 
a few men. 

“Hold your fire till we are across,” shouted the 
Colonel. “Forward — Guide center — Double-quick — 
March!” 

With a yell the regiment swept across the clearing 
into the brush beyond. A furious, noisy scrambling 
ensued in the thickets. Neither side could see 10 
yards ahead, and the firing, though fierce and rapid, 
was not very effective. Men shot at sounds, or 
motions of the bushes, and the bullets, glancing on 
the limbs, whistled in all directions. But the 200th 
Ind. pressed furiously forward, and though the 
rebels resisted stubbornly they were gradually 


CAPTURE OF REBEL STRONGHOLD. 


189 


pressed back up the hill. Occasionally one was 
killed, many were wounded, and squads were caught 
in clumps of brush and compelled to surrender. Si 
and Shorty kept their boys in hand, on the left of Co. 
Q, restrained them from firing until they saw some- 
thing to shoot at, and saw that they did not advance 
until their guns were loaded. They heard a crash- 
ing volley delivered on their right front, and spring- 
ing swiftly in that direction, came to a little break, 
across which they saw a squad of 15 or 16 rebels 
under the command of a Captain, with their guns 
still smoking, and peering into the woods to see the 
result of their fire. Si rushed at the Captain, with 
leveled gun, and ordered him to surrender. 

‘‘Are you an officer?” said the startled Captain as 
soon as he could gain words. “Fm a Captain. Fll 
not surrender to any one under my rank.” 

“I'm Captain enough for you,” answered Si, 
thrusting the muzzle of his gun close to his face. 
“Surrender this minute, or off goes your head.” 

The Captain dropped his sword, and his men 
yielded. 

The prisoners were conducted to the rear, and 
when Si returned with his squad to the regiment he 
found it had forced its way to the foot of the high 
wall of rock that rose straight up from the slope. 

The rebels on the crest, 100 feet above, had been 
trying to assist their comrades below, by firing with 
their muskets, and occasionally sending a shell, 
where they could get their howitzers sufficiently 
depressed. Now they had bethought themselves to 
roll rocks and heavy stones off the crest, which fell 
with a crash on the treetops below. 


190 


SI KLEGG. 


The 200th Ind. was raging along the foot of the 
wall, trying to find a cleft in it by which they could 
climb to the top and get at their foes. Standing a 
few yards in the rear, under a gigantic white-oak, 
whose thick branches promised protection from the 
crashing bowlders, the Colonel was sending parties 
to explore every place that seemed hopeful, and 
report to him. When Si came up with his squad he 
was directed to go to the extreme left, and see what 
he could find. 

He did so, and came to a little open space made 
by the washings which poured over the crest of the 
rock when the rain descended in torrents. There was 
a cleft there, but it was 40 feet above them, and sur- 
rounded by rebels, who yelled at the sight of nis 
squad, and sent down a volley of bowlders. Si and 
his squad promptly dodged these by getting behind 
trunks of trees. They fired at the rebels on the crest, 
who as promptly lay down and sheltered themselves. 

The firing and stone- thro wing lasted an hour or 
more, and then seemed to die down from sheer 
exhaustion. 

As the stones begun to come down more fitfully, 
and at longer intervals. Shorty shouted to those on 
top : 

“Say, you fellers up there, ain’t you gittin’ tired 
o’ that work? You ain’t hurtin’ nobody with them 
dornicks. We kin dodge ’em easy, and you’re just 
strainin’ yourselves for nothin’. Let up for awhile, 
till we both rest and git a fresh hold. We’ll amuse 
you if you will.” 

“What’ll you do?” asked one of the rebels, peering 
over the crest. 


CAPTURE OF REBEL STRONGHOLD. 


191 


*‘Lots o’ things. I’ll turn one o’ my famous double- 
back-action flip-flaps, which people have come miles 
to see, when I was traveling with Dan Rice. Or we’ll 
sing you a song. We’ve here the World Renowned 
Ballad-Singer of Bean Blossom Crick. Or we’ll make 
you a speech. We have here the Justly-Famous Boy 
Orator of Pogue’s Run.” 

Everything had become quite still all around dur- 
ing this dialog. 

^‘Give us a song,” said the rebel, and his comrades’ 
heads began showing over the edge of the rock. 

"‘Now, no rock-throwing and no shootin’ while 
he’s singing’,” said Shorty. “Give the boy a chance 
to git back to his tree after he’s done.” 

“All right. We’ll play fair. But no politics,” 
came back from the rock. 

“Go out there, Alf, on the gravel, and sing to ’em,” 
said Shorty. 

Alf Russell hesitated a moment, and then climbed 
up on the pile of washings and after clearing his 
throat, sang “When This Cruel War is Over” in his 
best style, and was applauded from the top of the 
rock and below. 

“Now, give us your speech. But no politics,” the 
rebels shouted. 

Monty Scruggs stepped up on the mound and 
recited “Bingen on the Rhine” in his best school- 
exhibition style. The delight of the rebels was 
boundless. 

“Hip-hip — Hooray! Good! Good!” they shouted. 
“Give us another.” 

Monty scratched his head to think of something 
appropriate, and then occurred to him Webster’s 


192 


SI KLEGG. 


great speech in defense of the Union, which was 
then a favorite in the schools. 

“When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the 
last time the sun in heaven, may I not see him 
shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of 
a once glorious Union; on States dissevered, dis- 
cordant, belligerent ; on a land rent with civil feuds, 
or drenched, it may be, with fraternal blood. Liberty 
and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable.” 

The rebels listened with growing impatience to 
the words, and as Monty concluded with his best 
flourish they yelled angrily: 

“Heah, we told you no politics. Git back thar, 
now, quick, or we’ll bust your haid with this heah 
rock.” 

Shorty and Si raised their guns to shoot the man 
with the bowlder, and Monty skipped back to the 
shelter of* his tree, saying with a grin: 

“I was bound to give ’em a little straight goods 
before I quit, and they got it. Old Dan Webster’s 
very words.” 

“The orders is to stay right here for the night,” 
said the Orderly-Sergeant, coming up through the 
brush to Si, “and be ready for anything that comes. 
I don’t know what old Sherman means — whether he 
is going to send over some balloons to lift us to the 
top of the rocks, or set us to tunneling through. I 
suppose it ain’t my business to know. I’ve got 
enough to do running this company. But some- 
thing’s got to bust inside the next 24 hours, and 
when it does there’ll be the dumbedest smash this 
country ever saw. Stay where you are till further 


CAPTURE OF REBEL STRONGHOLD. 


193 


orders, and make yourselves as comfortable as pos- 
sible.’’ 

The rebels on the rocks having quieted down, the 
boys stowed themselves around the roots of the trees, 
made little fires under the shelter of the rocks, 
cooked their suppers, smoked their pipes, and finally 
rolled themselves in their blankets and went to sleep. 

Little Pete “snugged” in with Shorty, but when 
that gentleman was awakened by Si a little after 
daylight, Pete was gone. 

Shorty fumed around at this while he was cook- 
ing his breakfast, for he wanted Pete to be there 
and eat heartily,, in preparation for the arduous 
struggles of the momentous day which was breaking 
for them. 

But little Pete continued to be absent. No one 
had seen him, no one had heard his voice, no one 
know anything about him. Shorty became greatly 
worried, and the others shared his feelings, and 
began beating up the woods around in search of 
some place that he might have fallen into. 

With the daybreak the firing away to the left, 
where a lodgment had been made on Rocky Face 
Ridge, beyond the gap, broke out afresh, and rolled 
down toward the gap. The squad listened intently 
to it as it came nearer, for they felt that it meant 
the beginning of the day’s bloody business. The 
crests above them remained silent. 

Suddenly they heard little Pete’s voice calling ; 

“Sergeant Klegg! Corporal Elliott!” 

They looked in every direction, but could see no 
Pete. 


7 


194 


SI KLEGG. 


“Sergeant Klegg! Corporal Elliott! Look up here. 
I’m up here on the rocks.” 

They turned their eyes to the crest, and there saw 
Pete waving his hat to them. 

“Come up here,” he called. “There ain’t no rebels 
up here. They’ve all gone off down into the valley.” 

From their tense hearts the boys sent up a cheer, 
which drew all attention to them. The news quickly 
spread along the line, and was received with cheers. 

“Go down that way about 100 yards,” Pete called 
down, “and you’ll find a tall pine blowed down agin 
the cliff. You kin climb that, and git up to where 
its top lays right agin a bunch qf bushes. Shorty 
rolled on my leg this morning, and waked me up 
before daylight. I then thought I’d git up and take 
a look, and see how things appeared before they got 
to shooting. I found the pine tree, and dumb it 
mighty quiet, intending to sneak up close to the 
rebels. But I couldn’t find none. They was all 
gone.” 


CHAPTER XVL 


THE 200th IND. assaults THE REBEL WORKS AT 
DAYBREAK. 

T here were the same perplexing sounds of 
battle in many places and directions when 
the 200th Ind. went into line as there had 
been around Buzzard Roost. 

Joe Johnston was fiercely contesting every hilltop 
and narrow gorge to gain time to adjust his army to 
the unexpected movement through Snake Creek Gap, 
and save the stores he had accumulated behind the 
heavy fortifications around Dalton. 

Though they had felt themselves completely worn 
out by the work with the train, the prospect of a fight 
put new life into the 200th Ind., and they leaned on 
their guns and listened to the crackling of musketry 
and booming of artillery far away to their left, to 
their right, and apparently in their rear. Sometimes 
the sounds would come so near that the wave of 
battle would seem to be surely rolling down on them. 
Then they would clutch their guns more firmly, and 
their hands instinctively seek their cartridge-boxes. 
Then the firing would as inexplicably die down and 
stop, when they would again sink on the ground with 
fatigue. 

So the late afternoon wore on. It grew very quiet 

( 195 ) 


196 


SI KLEGG. 


all around. Even the dull booming of the cannon far 
up the valley where Howard and Schofield were ad- 
vancing on the heavy works immediately In front of 
Dalton, died down into sullen fitfulness. 

The silence of the woods and the mountains as 
night drew on became more oppressive than the 
crashing sounds, the feverish movements, and the 
strained expectancy of the day had been. 

The whip-poor-wills began to fill the evening air 
with their mournful calls, which accentuated and 
intensified the weird loneliness of the scene, where 
but a little while before there had been no thought 
but of deadly hatred and bitter strife. 

'T never heard the whip-poor-wills whip so gloom- 
ily,’^ remarked the sentimental Alf Russell, after the 
regiment had stacked arms, and the men were rest- 
ing, exhausted and out of temper, on the ground. 
‘'Seems to me it sounds altogether different from the 
way they do at homer got something savage in it.” 

“Probably they’re yelling their satisfaction over 
the number of men they’ve seen killed and wounded 
today,” ventured Monty Scruggs. “Does ’em good 
to see men shooting at one another instead of birds.” 

“Dumbed little brutes,” grumbled Shorty, nursing 
his hurt foot, “if they’d bin wrastlin’ all day with 
a mule train they’d be too tired to go yellin’ around 
like that. I always did hate a whip-poor-will, any- 
way. They hain’t got sense enough to do anything 
but yell, jest like a pasel o’ rebel cavalry.” 

“Great Scott! I wisht I knowed whether we’re 
goin’ to stay here tonight,” said Si, handling his 
blanket roll with a look of anticipation. 

“No,” said the Orderly, coming down from the 


THE ASSAULT ON THE REBEL WORKS. 


197 


right of the regiment. “We’re to move forward 
about a mile, and establish a line for the rest of the 
brigade to form on. We’re to go quietly, without 
noise or commands, and then bivouac without fires. 
Get your guns and fall in quietly.” 

As ill-tempered as tired, the boys roused up from 
the ground, and' began taking their guns from the 
stacks. Harry Joslin snatched his out first, and the 
stack, falling over, the bayonet points struck Gid 
Mackall’s face. The angry Gid responded with a 
blow landed on the side of Harry’s head. In an in- 
stant the two clinched, and the others, who were in 
no better humor, began striking at one another in 
blind temper. Si and Shorty snatched the two prin- 
cipals apart with a good deal of violence and much 
show of their own tempers. 

“You long legged sand hill crane,” said Si, shaking 
Gid. “Will you always be kickin’ up a rumpus? I’ll 
break your neck if you don’t act better.” 

“You senseless little bantam,” said Shorty, with 
his grip on Harry’s throat ; “will you always be rais- 
ing a ruction? Will I have to wring your neck to 
learn you to behave?” 

“Let him alone. Shorty,” said Si irritably. '‘He 
ain’t to blame. This gangling fly-up the crick started 
it.” And he gave Gid another shake. 

“You let him alone. Si,” said Shorty crossly. “I 
know better. This whelp started it, as he always 
does. I’ll throw him down and tramp on him.” 

“You won’t do nothin’ o’ the kind. Shorty. Don’t 
you contradict me. Let him go, I tell you.” 

“You take your hands off that boy, or I’ll make 


198 


SI KLEGG. 


you, Si Klegg,’’ said Shorty hotly. “I won’t see you 
imposin’ on somebody’s that’s smaller’n you.” 

The spectacle of the two partners quarreling 
startled them all. They stopped and looked aghast. 

^‘Here, what’s all this disorder here,” said the 
Orderly, coming up, impetuously, and as cross as any 
one. “Why don’t you get into line as ordered? Ser- 
geant Klegg, you’re always making trouble for me.” 

“I ain’t doin’ nothing o’ the kind. What’s the 
sense o’ your sayin’ sich a thing?” Si retorted. “You 
know it ain’t true.” 

“Si Klegg, be careful how you call me a liar,” an- 
swered the Orderly. “I’ll” 

“What in the world does all this mean?” said Capt. 
McGillicuddy angrily, as he stepped back to them. 
“What are you wasting time squabbling before the 
men for? Fall into your places at once, and don’t 
let me hear another word from any of you. Don’t 
you see the regiment is moving?” 

“We’ll finish this later,” the Orderly whispered to 
Si, as he went to his place on the right. 

“I’ll settle with you, Shorty, when I have more 
time,” Si remarked as he took his place. 

“The sooner the better,” grunted Shorty. “You 
can’t run over me, if you are a Sergeant.” 

The wearied men went stumbling along the rough 
road for what seemed the longest mile ever known. 
It had grown very dark. At last a form separated 
itself from the bank of blackness on the left, and a 
voice said in a penetrating whisper : 

“Is this the 200th Ind?” 

“Yes,” answered the Colonel. 


THE ASSAULT ON THE REBEL WORKS. 


199 


'‘I'm Lieut. Snowden, of the General’s staff,” said 
the whisper. 

“Yes; I recognize your voice,” answered the 
Colonel. 

“I was sent here,” continued the Whisper, “to post 
you when you came up. You will make this your 
right, and form out there to the left. Do it without 
the slightest noise. There is a strong force of rebels 
out there in front. They have a line of works with 
abatis in front, and a fort on the hill there to the 
right, as you can see by looking up against the sky. 
You will not allow any fires to be made or lights to 
be shown. The other regiments will come up and 
form on your right and left, and you will be ready 
to attack and carry the line immediately in front of 
you the moment that it is light enough to see to 
move. The signal ^i\\ be given by the headquarters 
bugle.” 

“Very good,” replied the Colonel. “Tell the Gen- 
eral that we’ll be ready, and he’ll find us inside the 
rebel line five minutes after the bugle sounds.” 

“In the meanwhile,” continue the Aid, “you will 
keep a sharp lookout. You may be attacked, and if 
you see signs of evacuation you are to attack, and 
the other regiments will support you. The General 
will come up later and give you further instructions. 
Good night.” 

The men nearest the Colonel heard plainly all that 
was said, and it was soon known throughout the 
regiment. The men seemed to forget their fatigue 
as they moved alertly but warily into line to the left, 
and studied intently the sky-line of the rising ground 
in front. 


200 


SI KLEGG. 


The whip-poor-wills were still calling, but at the 
flanks and rear of the regiment. None of them 
called in front. 

‘Tt’s full o’ rebels over there; that’s the reason,” 
said Si to himself, as he noted this. “Yes, they’re 
all at home, and goin’ to shoot,” he added in a loud 
whisper. “Lay down, everybody.” 

He was none too soon. The tramping through the 
bushes, and the various noises that bodies of men 
will make when in motion, had reached the ears of 
the alert rebels. A dazzling series of flashes ran 
along the sky-line, and a flight of bullets sang 
wickedly over the heads of the 200th Ind., striking 
in the bushes and trees far behind them. 

“Don’t anybody yell! Don’t anybody shoot!” 
called the Colonel in a loud whisper, and it was re- 
peated by the line officers. “It. will reveal our po- 
sition. Lie down and keep perfectly quiet. They’re 
overshooting us.” 

The rebel battery in the fort waked up, and, more 
to show its good will than anything else, began shell- 
ing the surrounding landscape. 

One of our batteries, a mile or so to the rear, 
which had not had an opportunity to fire during the 
day, could not resist this challenge, and began throw- 
ing shells at the fort with so fair an aim as to draw 
the attention of the rebel battery to it. 

The lurid flashes of the muskets, cannon, and 
shells revealed a belt of jagged abatis several rods 
wide covering the entire front of the fort and breast- 
works. 

“Great Scott !” muttered Si to himself, for he was 
not on speaking terms with Shorty, and would not 


THE ASSAULT ON THE REBEL WORKS. 201 


alarm the boys ; ^‘there’s a porcupine nest to git 
through. How in the Nation are we ever goin’ to do 

itr 

“Unroll your blankets and lie down on them,” 
came down the line from the Colonel. “Lay your 
guns beside you. Don’t attempt to stack them. You 
may attract the attention of the rebels. Everybody 
keep his place, and be ready to form and move at 
once.” 

“Stop firing. What are you shooting at?” said a 
voice of authority in the rebel works. “Who gave 
the order to fire?” 

“The men began it themselves,” said a second 
voice. “They heard Yankees moving over there, and 
commenced shooting at them.” 

“How do you know there are any Yankees out 
there? I don’t believe they have advanced beyond 
the crest of the hill. I think they are all going down 
toward Resaca. Haven’t you any pickets out there?” 

“No. We only moved in here this afternoon, and 
did not know how long we were going to stay. I 
was ordered to stay here till further orders, to pro- 
tect the road beyond.” 

“Well, we haven’t any ammunition to waste firing 
at uncertainties. There’s enough Yankees in sight 
all the time for all the bullets we have, without wast- 
ing any on imaginary ones. It’ll be time enough for 
you to begin shooting when you see them coming to 
the edge of the abatis there. Before they get through 
that you’ll have time enough to shoot away all the 
ammunition you have.” 

“I’m going to see whether there are any Yankees 
there,” said the second voice in the rebel works. 


202 


SI KLEGG. 


'‘Jim, you and Joe go down to the edge of the abatis 
and see what you can see.” 

The wearied boys had nearly all fallen asleep on 
their blankets. Even the noisy artillery duel had 
not kept Jim Humphreys awake, and Monty Scruggs 
and Alf Russell followed his example soon after the 
firing ceased. Then Harry Joslyn and Gid Mackall, 
spreading their blankets apart for the first time sines 
they had been in the service, sought rest from their 
fatigue and forgetfulness of their mutual anger. Si 
and Shorty kept sternly apart. Shorty occupied him- 
self in fixing the blankets comfortably for a nest for 
little Pete Skidmore, while Si, brooding over the way 
that Shorty “had flared up about nothin' at all,” and 
the Orderly-Sergeant's and Capt. McGillicuddy's un- 
just heat to him, had kept his eyes fixed on the sky- 
line beyond, and had listened to the conversation of 
the rebel officers. It occurred to him that by watch- 
ing the two rebels come down he might get an idea 
of a passage through the abatis, which would be use- 
ful in the morning. He strained his eyes to catch 
sight of their movements. 

He saw two projections against the sky-line, which 
he knew were the men crossing the works. They 
separated, and he could make out two black blotches 
above the level of darkness and moving down the 
slope. One came almost directly toward him, the 
other going to the left. It occurred to him to cap- 
ture one of the men. He would have suggested to 
Shorty to get the other, but he could not bring him- 
self to speak to his partner. Keeping his eyes fixed on 
the man directly in front, he slowly wriggled for- 
ward without rising. The man was evidently coming 


THE ASSAULT ON THE REBEL WORKS. 203 


cautiously, halting every few steps, and looking and 
listening. 

Perfect quiet reigned in the regiment. The men 
were mostly asleep. Those who were awake were 
intently watching the hill for some sign of the enemy, 
or as silently foreboding the happenings of the mor- 
row. 

Without making the least noise. Si reached the 
edge of the abatis. There a young tulip tree had 
been left standing, and its plentiful branches and 
large leaves made a thick mass of darkness. He rose 
upright behind, but his foot came down on a dead 
stick, which broke with a sharp crack. All the blood 
rushed to his heart. But at the same instant his 
head had disturbed a whip-poor-will who had taken 
refuge there from the noise. She flew away with 
a tumiult of plaintive “whips.” The rebel in front 
halted for a long time. Then he apparently con- 
cluded that an owl was after the whip-poor-will, and, 
reassured, came forward. 

As he had crawled along. Si had felt with his 
hands that he was on a tolerably beaten path, which 
ran by the sapling he was now standing behind. He 
was sure that this led through the abatis, and the 
rebel was coming down it. The rebel came on so 
near that Si could hear his breathing, and Si fi.ared 
he could hear his. The rebel was carrying his gun 
at a trail in his right hand, and putting all his pow- 
ers into his eyes and ears to detect signs of the pres- 
ence of Yankees. He hesitated for a little while 
before the sapling, and then stepped past it. 

As he did so Si shot out his right arm and caught 
him around the neck with so quick and tight a hug 


204 


SI KLEGG. 


that the rebel could not open his mouth to yell. S. 
raised his arm so as to press the rebel’s jaws to- 
gether, and with his left hand reached for his gun. 
The rebel swayed and struggled, but the slender 
Southerner was no match for the broad-shouldered 
Indiana boy, whose muscles had been knit by hard 
work. 

The struggle was only momentary until Si secured 
the gun, and the rebel’s muscles relaxed from the 
stoppage of his breath. 

^Tf you say a word, or try to, you’re a dead man,” 
Si whispered, as he dropped the gun, and substituted 
his left hand at the man’s throat for his right arm. 
Taking silence for acquiescence. Si picked up his own 
gun and started with his prisoner for the Colonel. 
He walked upright boldly now, for the watchers on 
the rebel works could not see that there was more 
than one man in the path. 

The Colonel ordered Si to bring his prisoner back 
into a gully some distance behind the line, where he 
could be interrogated without the sound reaching the 
men in the works. 

“Where do you belong?” asked the Colonel. 

“To Kunnel Wheatstone’s Jawjy rijimint.” 

“How many men have you got over there in the 
works.” 

“Well, a right smart passul.” 

“What do you mean by a right smart parcel?” 

“Well, a good big heap.” 

“What, a thousand?” 

“Yes, I reckon so.” 

“Ten thousand?” 

“I ’spects so.” 


THE ASSAULT ON THE REBEL WORKS. 205 


‘Twenty thousand.” 

“Mouty likely.” 

“You don’t seem to have a clear idea of numbers. 
How many regiments have you got over there?” 

“Well, thar’s Runnel Wheatstone’s Jawjy riji- 
mint — that’s mine; then thar’s Runnel Tarrant’s 
South Carliny rijimint, and then thar’s Runnel 
Bird’s Tennessee rijimint, and I don’t mind how 
many others. They’ve bin cornin’ and goin’ all day, 
and I hain’t paid no attention to ’em. I only know 
that thar’s enough to give yo’uns a wallopin’ if 
yo’uns only come on.” 

“Sergeant,” said the Colonel, “you did a splendid 
thing in capturing this man and bringing him to me, 
but I fear I shall not get as much information out 
of him as I’d like to. I don’t presume anybody really 
knows just how many men are over there. We’ve 
got to jump the works and take the chances on what 
we find.” 

“We’re ready the minute you give the word. 
Colonel,” said Si, saluting. 

“Colonel,” said Shorty’s voice out of the darkness, 
“I’ve brung you one o’ the rebel scouts that was 
piroutin’ out there. I don’t know as you kin make 
much out o’ him, though, for the welt I fetched him 
with my gun bar’l seems to’ve throwed his thinkery 
out o’ gear, and he can’t talk straight.” 

“And so you got the other one,” Si started to say 
to his partner, but then he remembered Shorty’s 
“flarin’ up,” and held his tongue. 

“I don’t imagine that his ‘thinkery,’ as you call it, 
was of much account when it was in order, if it was 
no better than this other man’s,” said the Colonel, 


206 


SI KLEGG. 


with a smile. “Perhaps, if he could think better he 
wouldn’t be in the rebel army. Sergeant (to the 
Provost-Sergeant), take charge of these two men. 
Give them something to eat, and send them to Di- 
vision Headquarters.” 

Si and Shorty carefully avoided one another on 
their way back to the company, and declined to dis- 
cuss their exploits with either the Orderly-Sergeant 
or Capt. McGillicuddy. 

“Go out and git you a rebel for yourself, if you 
want to know about ’em,” Shorty had snapped at the 
Orderly. “There’s plenty more up there on the hill. 
It’s full of ’em.” 

As everything now seemed quiet in front, the two 
partners sat down with their back against trees to 
catch a little sleep before the momentous movement 
in the morning. 

It seemed to Si that he had hardly closed his eyes 
when the Orderly shook him and whispered an order 
to help arouse the men and get them into line. 

“Don’t make the least noise,” whispered the 
Orderly. “I hear the rebels moving around, but we 
want to jump ’em before they know we’re up. The 
* further we can get through that abatis before they 
discover us, the fewer we’ll have killed. It’s going to 
be mighty tough work at best, and I wish that we 
were going over the works now.” 

It was the chill gray of the morning, when every 
man’s spirits and courage are at ebb-tide. For an 
instant, Si felt his heart sink at the thought of the 
awful ordeal that confronted them. There came 
across his mind a swift vision of the peaceful home 
back in Indiana, with the pleasant fields lying about. 


THE ASSAULT ON THE REBEL WORKS. 207 

over which he used to go on sweet Spring mornings 
like this and note the flowers that had bloomed over 
night, and the growth the wheat had made. How 
sickening to be now starting to open up a hell of 
pain, wounds, and death. Then his natural courage 
and will reasserted themselves, and he began rousing 
the boys, but with a tenderness born of the thought 
that their hearts would be as low as his in that bleak 
hour. 

Jim Humphreys waked up stolidly, and without 
a word began preparing to fall in. Alf RusselFs and 
Monty Scruggs’s faces turned ashy after they had 
fairly awakened, and they picked up their guns with 
nerveless Angers. 

Harry Joslyn took the position of a soldier, with 
his gun at an order, his lips tightly closed, and his 
eyes flxed on the rebel position, as the spreading 
light developed it. Sandy Baker fldgeted about at 
one time tinkering with his gun and equipments, and 
then stopping half-way in the task he had started 
and falling into a At of musing. Little Pete Skid- 
more wandered about, looking into Si’s and Shorty’s 
grave faces, and then into others equally solemn, and 
flnding no comfort in any. It was the first time that 
he heard no joke or quip flash along the forming line 
to bring cheers or laughter. 

‘‘Come, boys,” said Si, kindly, ''eat your break- 
fasts. You can’t make no coffee nor fry no meat, but 
you’d better fill up on cold grub. You’ll need all you 
can eat.” 

The mention of something to eat seemed to remind 
Gid Mackall of his usual appetite. He pulled a 


208 


SI KLEGG. 


cracker out of his haversack and bit it, but it seemed 
distasteful, and he spat the piece out. 

“The orders are,” said the Orderly-Sergeant in a 
low tone, as he passed down in front of the company, 
“to strip off your bankets, canteens, and haversacks, 
and pile them. They’ll be in the road in the rush, 
and catch in going through the abatis.” 

“Orderly,” said Shorty in his most conciliatory 
way, “if you want to do me a favor make Pete Skid- 
more one of the detail.” 

“I ain’t asking suggestions from you,” said the 
Orderly, still surly. “But I shall detail Baker and 
Skidmore for the duty.” 

The boys flung their things* off with something like 
desperation in their looks. 

It was now daylight, but a dense fog prevented 
seeing more than a few feet. 

“We can’t wait any longer,” said the Colonel. 
“Pass the word down the line to move forward. Make 
no noise till the enemy opens fire. Then everybody 
push forward as rapidly as possible for the works.” 

“The first fire will probably go over our heads and 
do little damage,” said Capt. McGillicuddy, stepping 
down to the center, so that his whisper could be 
heard by all. “It’s always so when men fire down- 
hill. Then, you all want to be careful and fire low, so 
as to hit as many as possible, and rattle them in their 
future firing. The more of them we can hit the less 
of us will be hit afterward. Forward — Guide right !” 

It seemed as if the crashing of their marching 
feet was so loud that the rebels on the hill could not 
fail to hear it, and they held their breaths in painful 
expectancy of the volley. But they had gotten a rod 


THE ASSAULT ON THE REBEL WORKS. 209 


or more into the entangling brush of the abatis, and 
were stumbling and crashing amid the baffling 
branches, before they heard the voice of the previous 
night command : 

^‘Ready — Aim — aim low — Fire I” 

The rebel muskets crashed together in a terrific 
volley, which generally passed over the heads of the 
200th Ind., though a few men fell into the brush 
with wounds. 

Si had gone up the path that he had found the 
night before, and therefore had no struggle with the 
fallen trees to shake his nerves and disturb his aim. 
He had calculated upon this. He brought his musket 
down deliberately and took good aim at the point 
whence the voice of command had come. As his gun 
cracked he heard voices cry : 

“The KunneFs shot. Look out for the Runnel 
thar.^^ 

Another voice immediately spoke up in command : 
“Steady, men ! Keep cool ! Fire low, and give it to 
the blue-bellied scoundrels !” 

Then broke out a mad rage of death and destruc- 
tion, in which both sides seemed in the fiercest in- 
sanity of murder. The 200th Ind., encouraged by the 
shouts of their officers, pressed forward through the 
baffling tree-tops, stumbling, falling, rising again, 
firing as fast as they could load their guns, and yell- 
ing like demons. They were frantic to get through 
the obstructions and come to hand-to-hand struggle 
with the fiends who were yelling and firing from the 
top of the breastworks. 

The rebel battery in the fort began hurling a tor- 
nado of shells as near as they could bring their guns 


210 


SI KLEGG. 


to bear on the yelling. This aroused its enemy bat- 
tery of the night before, and it opened up viciously. 
The regiments to the right and left of the 200th Ind. 
moved forward at the sound of the firing, and added 
to the dinning turbulence. 

Si had kept to the path, firing coolly and with 
deadly aim as he kept pace with the line, which was 
fiercely forging through the brush. There had gath- 
ered behind him Jim Humphreys, Harry Joslyn, and 
Gid Mackall. The rest had gathered over toward 
Shorty, who was raging through the abatis, tearing 
aside the branches which impeded the others, yelling, 
swearing most horribly, and firing as a loaded gun 
would be handed him. He happened to look around 
to see who was handing him guns, and saw that it 
was Pete Skidmore and Sandy Baker. 

‘T thought you little brats was ordered to stay be- 
hind with the things,’’ he gasped. 

“I know we was,” whimpered little Pete as he 
capped a gun and handed it to Shorty; “but we 
couldn’t stay when we heard the yelling and shoot- 
ing. We was so scared that we was afraid to stay 
there, so we hunted you up, and” 

“Come on, boys,” yelled Shorty to the others. “Go 
ahead. We’re almost through, and then we’ll sali- 
vate them whelps of damnation.” 

A bullet came so nigh Si’s face that it seemed to 
burn him, and then he heard it strike. Jim Hum- 
phreys fell without a groan — a bullet through his 
brain. 

“Don’t mind that. Forward, boys,” shouted Si. 
“Here’s the end of the abatis.” 


THE ASSAULT ON THE REBEL WORKS. 211 


Gid Mackall fell, and Harry Joslyn turned to help 
him. 

‘‘Don’t mind him. Come on,” Si called over his 
shoulder, as he rushed in the clear place, just at the 



THE CHARGE THRU THE ABATIS. 


edge of the shallow ditch in front of the works. 
“Everybody this way.” 

All that was left of the regiment was now through 
the abatis. The fog suddenly lifted, and showed the 


212 


SI KLEGG. 


combatants face to face, with only the ditch and the 
bank of earth between them. The sight was so 
startling that both sides paused for an instant. 

“Forward, 200th Ind. ! Rally on your colors !” 
rang out the clear, sweet, penetrating voice of the 
Colonel, as he snatched the colors from the hand of 
the third man who had borne them since the regi- 
ment moved forward, and sprang up the side of the 
works. 

Of the pandemonium that reigned inside the rebel 
works for the next few minutes Si only recollected 
seeing the Orderly-Sergeant, bareheaded, and with 
bayonet fixed, leap down from the bank and trans- 
fix a man who tried to snatch the fiag from the 
Colonel’s hand. Si arrived just in time to shoot the 
rebel officer who was striking at the Orderly with 
his sword, while Shorty came up, knocking down a 
winrow of men with his gun swung by the butt as a 
club, to rescue Si from three rebels who were trying 
to bayonet him. 

All at once the entire rebel line broke and ran 
down the hill in a wave of dingy brown, while an- 
other wave of blue rolled over the works to the right 
and left of the 200th Ind. 

“I hope you ain’t hurt. Orderly,” said Si, dropping 
the butt of his musket on the ground, and wiping 
his flushed face. “I thought that officer was goin’ 
to git you, sure.” 

“He would, if it hadn’t been for you. Si. He got 
in one slash on me, but it ain’t much, I think. But 
Shorty helped you out of a tight box.” 

“Yes; Shorty generally does that,” said Si, with 


THE ASSAULT ON THE REBEL WORKS. 


213 


a beaming look on his partner. “He’s the best sol- 
dier in the regiment, and kin always be trusted to git 
in on time anywhere.” 

“Well, I’m afraid it ’ll be a short roll I’ll have to 
call this evening,” said the Orderly, with a sorrow- 
ful expression. “I suppose we’d better go back 
through that brush and look up the boys that were 
dropped.” 


CHAPTER XVIL 


GATHERING UP THE BOYS AFTER THE BATTLE. 

44'U"00RAY for Injianny. Injianny gits there 

J_ every time/’ roared Si, joining the yelling, 
exultant throng crowding around the 
Colonel. “The old 200th wuz the first to cross the 
works, and miles ahead o’ any other rejimint.” 

“Bully for the Wild Wanderers of the Wabash,” 
Shorty joined in. “They’re the boss regiment in the 
army o’ the Cumberland, and the Army o’ the Cum- 
berland’s the boss army on earth. Hooray for Us & 
Co. Le’s have a speech. Where’s Monty Scruggs?” 

“Yes, where’s Monty?” echoed Si, with a little chill ' 
at his heart, for he had not remembered seeing the 
boy since they emerged from the abatis, just before 
the final rush. 

“Well, le’s have a song, then,” said Shorty, as Si 
was looking around. “Where’s Alf Russell ?” 

“Yes, where’s Alf Russell?” echoed Si, with a new 
pang clutching at his heart, for he then recalled that 
he had not seen Alf since he had helped him up the 
embankment, immediately after which Si’s thoughts 
had been engrossed by the struggle for the flag. “Did 
any of you boys see either Alf or Monty?” he asked 
nervously. 

“And has anybody seen Pete Skidmore?” chimed 


( 214 ) 


GATHERING UP THE BOYS AFTER THE BATTLE. 215 


in Shorty, his voice suddenly changing from a tone 
of exultation to one of deepest concern. “Why don’t 
some o’ you speak? Are you all dumb?” 

Somehow everybody instinctively stopped cheer- 
ing, and an awed hush followed. 

“All of Co. Q step this way,” called out the Or- 
derly-Sergeant. All of the usual “rasp” had left the 
strong, rough voice. There was a mournful tremor 
in it. “Fall in, Co. Q, over there by this pile of picks 
and shovels.” 

Scarcely 20 of the 80 stalwart youths who had 
lined up at the foot of the rugged palisades of Rocky 
Face two evenings before grouped themselves to- 
gether in response to the Orderly’s call. 

Capt. McGillicuddy, the Orderly, Si, and Shorty 
strained their eyes to see more of the company dis- 
engaging themselves from the throng around the 
Colonel. 

The Orderlies of the other companies called to 
their men to fall in at different places. 

The Colonel looked at the muster with sad eyes. 

“Didn’t nobody see nothin’ o’ little Skidmore?” 
savagely repeated Shorty, walking back to the works 
and scanning the country round. “Was you all so 
blamed anxious lookin’ out for yourselves that you 
didn’t pay no attention to that little boy? Nice gang, 
you are.” 

“Orderly, take the company back into the abatis, 
and look for the boys,” ordered Capt. McGillicuddy. 

“’Tention, company!” commanded the Orderly. 
“Stack arms ! Right face — Break ranks — March !” 

“Hello, boys,” said Monty Scruggs’s voice, weak^ 


216 


SI KLEGG. 


but unmistakably his, as the company recrossed the 
works. 

“Great heavens! he’s bin shot through the 
bowels?” thought Si, turning toward him with sick- 
ening apprehension of this most dreaded of wounds. 
Then, aloud, with forced cheerfulness: 

“I hope you ain’t hurt bad, Monty.” 

“I was hurt bad enough, the Lord knows,” an- 
swered the boy with a wan smile. “I hain’t been 
hurt so bad since I stubbed by sore toe last Summer. 
But I’m getting over it pretty fast. Just as I started 
up the bank a rebel threw a stone as big as my fist 
at me, and it took me square where I live. I thought 
at first that whole battery over there in the fort had 
shot at me all at once. Goodness, but it hurt I My, 
but that fellow could throw a stone I Seemed to me 
that it went clear into me, and bent my back-bone. 
I’ve been feeling to see if it wasn’t bent. But we got 
the works all right, didn’t we?” 

“You bet we did,” Si answered exultantly. “Licked 
the stuffin’ out of ’em. Awful glad you’re no worse 
hurt, Monty. Make your way inside there, and you’ll 
find the Surgeon. He’ll bring you around all right. 
We’re goin’ to look for the other boys.” 

“Alf Russell caught a bullet,” said Monty Scruggs. 
“I heard him yell, and turned to look at him, when 
that rebel’s bowlder gave me something el-se to think 
about, so I don’t know where he is.” 

“Gid Mackall’s lying over there, somewhere,” said 
Harry Joslyn, who was all anxiety in regard to his 
old partner and antagonist. “Let me go and find 
him.” 


GATHERING UP THE BOYS AFTER THE BATTLE. 217 


“Go ahead,” said Si, helping Monty to his feet. 
“I’ll be right with you.” 

While Si was going back the way he had come 
Shorty was tearing through the tangled brush, turn- 
ing over the tree-tops by main strength, searching 
for Pete Skidmore. The rest of the company were 
seeking out the fallen ones hither and thither, and 
calling to one another, as they made discoveries, but 
Shorty only looked for Pete Skidmore. Si and Harry 
presently came to Gid Mackall’s body, lying motion- 
less in a pool of blood that dyed crimson the brown 
leaves thickly covering the ground. His cap had 
fallen off, and his head had crushed down into a 
bunch of slender oak twigs; his eyes were closed, 
and his callow face white as paper. 

“0, he’s dead! He’s stone dead,” wailed Harry 
Joslyn. “And just think how I quarreled and fought 
with him this morning.” 

“Mebbe not,” said Si, to whom such sights were 
more familiar. “That bullet hole in his blouse is too 
low down and too fur out to’ve hit either his heart or 
his lungs, seems to me. Mebbe he’s only fainted 
from loss o’ blood. Ketch hold o’ his feet. I’ll take 
his head, and we’ll carry him back to the Surgeon. 
Likely he kin bring him to.” 

The rough motion roused Gid, and as they clam- 
bered back over the works, Harry was thrilled to see 
him open his eyes a little ways. 

“Apparently,” said the busy Surgeon, stopping for 
a minute, with knife and bullet-forceps in his blood- 
stained hands, to give a brief glance and two or 
three swift touches to Gid, “the ball has struck his 
side and broke a rib or two. He’s swooned from loss 


218 


SI KLEGG. 


of blood. The blood’s stopped flowing now, and he’ll 
come around all right. Lay him over there in the 
shade of those trees. Put something under his head, 
and make him as comfortable as possible. I’ll attend 
to him as soon as I can get through with these men 
who are much worse off than he is.” 

And the over-worked Surgeon hurried away to 
where loud groans were imperatively calling for his 
helpful ministrations. 

Si and Harry broke down a thick layer of cedar 
branches to make a comfortable bed for Gid, placed 
a chunk under his head, and hurried away again to 
search for Alf Russell. They went over carefully 
that part of the works they had crossed, and the 
abatis in front, but could find no trace of him. They 
feared that after he had been shot he had crawled 
back under the shelter of some tree-tops, to protect 
him from the flying bullets, and died there. They 
turned over and pulled apart the branches for a wide 
space, but did not succeed in finding him, or any 
trace. But they found Bob Willis, stark in death, 
lying prone in the top of a young hickory, into which 
he had crashed, when the fatal bullet found him 
pressing courageously forward. Him they carried 
pitifully forward, and added to the lengthening row 
of the regiment’s dead, which was being gathered up. 

Then they went reluctantly back — shuddering 
with the certainty of what they should find, to bring 
in Jim Humphreys’s body. 

Harry Joslyn was so agitated by the sight of Hum- 
phreys’s mangled head and staring eyes that Si made 
him turn his back, place himself between the feet, 
one of which he took in each hand, and go before in 


GATHERING UP THE BOYS AFTER THE BATTLE. 219 


carrying the body back. Si stripped the blouse up 
so as to cover the head, and took the shoulders be- 
tween his hands, and so another body was added to 
the row of the regimental dead. 

Si himself was so sick at heart that he had little 
inclination to continue the search farther than to 
look over the wounded, as they were brought in, in 
hopes of finding some of his squad there. 

“There are three of us yet missing,” he said. 
“Mebbe they've got mixed up with the Kankakee 
boys on our left, and’ll come in all right after awhile. 
Mebbe they're out with Shorty somewhere. Fll wait 
till he comes in. Harry, I expect me and you’d bet- 
ter dig poor Jim's grave. There's no tollin’ how long 
we’ll stay here. Jim 'd rather we put him under 
than strangers what don’t know and care for him. 
It’s all we kin do for the poor feller; I’ll git a pick 
and you take a shovel. We’ll make the grave right 
here, where the Colonel lit when he jumped over the 
works with the fiag. That’ll tickle Jim, if he’s 
lookin' down from the clouds. Too bad, he couldn’t 
have lived long enough to see us go over the em- 
bankment, with the Colonel in the lead, wavin’ the 
fiag.” 

“The best thing,” said Harry, forgetting his sor- 
row in the exciting memories of the fight, “was to 
see the Orderly sock his bayonet up to the shank in 
the rebel, and you blow off that officer’s head” 

“Hush, Harry. Never speak o’ that,” Si ad- 
monished him. 

“And see you,” continued Harry, “stand off all 
three of them rebels, who was tryin’ to bayonet you, 
until Corp’l Elliott came raring down, swinging his 


220 


SI KLEGG. 


gun like a flail. Great Scott! didn’t he lay ’em out, 
though! I saw it all, as I was loading my gun in 
nine times to shoot one of the rebels attacking you. 
i’d just got the cap on, when Corp’l Elliott loped in.” 

“Orderly,” said Si a little later, “we’ve got Jim 
Humplireys’s grave dug. Will you take the things 
out of his pockets to send to his folks? and then we’ll 
bury him.” 

“Better wait till the Captain comes back and gives 
the orders,’^ said the Orderly. “I don’t want to touch 
his pockets without the Captain’s orders. Then, we 
ought to have his blanket to bury him in. You go 
ahead and dig Bob Willis’s grave, and I’ll take a 
detail back and bring up the blankets and things.” 

Shorty had pushed his unavailing search for little 
Pete far past the point where he remembered to have 
seen the boy, in the midst of the fighting. He had 
torn his hands and worn out his strength in tearing 
aside the brush to expose every possible place that 
the dying boy or his dead body might be concealed. 
He had reached the further side of the obstruction, 
and sat down on a stump, in despair of heart and 
exhaustion of body. 

Those with him, more intent on getting something 
to eat, had pushed on back to where their haversacks 
and canteeps and blankets had been left. 

Presently Shorty heard a call across the little 
valley : 

“Cor — po — ral Ell — iott. Cor — po — ral Ell — iott!” 

“Well, what is it?” Shorty called back, crustily. 

“Lit — tie — Pete — and — Sandy — Ba — ker — is — o — 
ver — here,” came back upon the bright Spring air. 

Shorty sprang up electrified, and tore across the 


GATHERING UP THE BOYS AFTER THE BATTLE. 221 

intervening space at the double-quick. He found 
Pete and Sandy Baker standing soberly on guard 
over the line of the company’s blankets and belong- 
ings. 

“Great Jehosephat, you little brats, how did you 
git here?” he exclaimed, snatching little Pete up and 
hugging him. 

“Why shouldn’t we be here?” asked Pete, as soon 
as he could get breath. “Didn’t the Captain order 
us to stay here? Me and Sandy follered you fellers 
until you jumped inside the works, and the rebels 
was a runnin’. We stood on top o’ the bank and shot 
at the rebels as fast as we could load our guns. We 
kept shootin’ at ’em till they got clean down to the 
road. Then we saw the Captain lookin’ over our 
way, and we thought he was cornin’ over there to 
skin us alive for leaving the things, and we ducked 
down behind the bank and run back here as fast as 
we could fetch it. You ain’t goin’ to tell the Captain 
on us, and have us tied up by the thumbs, are you. 
Corporal? Everything’s safe. Nothing’s gone. You 
won’t tell, will you ?” 

“0, you worthless little scamp,” said Shorty, with 
tears of joy in his eyes. “You ain’t worth the pow- 
der that’d blow you up. I could pound you for the 
worry you’ve given me in the last hour. But you 
ain’t hurt a bit, are you?” 

“Nope,” answered Pete. “But we both got awfully 
scratched runnin’ through that brush. Say, wasn’t 
the way the boys jumped the works and waded into 
them sardines just grand?” 

The Orderly-Sergeant and his detail came back for 
the things, and Shorty and the boys, picking up those 


222 


SI KLEGG. 


belonging to the squad, made their way to the com- 
pany. 

By the time they got back everybody’s emotions 
had subsided sufficiently to allow him to remember 
that he was terribly hungry, and that the next busi- 
ness in order should be the cooking of the first warm 
meal they had had for more than a day. Fires were 
soon blazing in every direction, and the air was 
fragrant with the smell of hot coffee and cooking 
meat. Even Monty Scruggs felt that the kink had 
gone out of his backbone, and the disturbance in his 
dietetic department had sufficiently subsided to allow 
him to enjoy a cup of coffee and piece of toasted 
meat on a hardtack. The Surgeon had reached Gid 
Mackall, and had put him in comfortable shape. 

The bodies of Bob Willis and Jim Humphreys 
were wrapped in their blankets, and mournfully con- 
signed to the earth. A cedar bush was stuck in the 
head of each grave, and Si, finding a piece of smooth 
board and a chunk of soft charcoal from a fire, sat 
down on the bank, and begun laboriously composing 
the following inscription: 

JAmES HUmFRI 
CO. Q. 

200th injianny VolunTea Infantry 
KiLD may, 15th 1864* 

He dide For His country 
The lord luvs a 

Braiv man 

“That’s all right. Si,” said Shorty coming up with 
his mouthful of hardtack and meat, and inspecting 
Si’s work with critical approval. “You kin lay away 


GATHERING UP THE BOYS AFTER THE BATTLE. 223 


over me and all the rest when it comes to writin’ and 
composin'. And you know how to spell, too. I wish 
I had your education. But I never had a chance to 
go to school." 

‘'Then you think it'll do, Shorty," said Si, much 
flattered by his partner's approval. 

“Yes, it's just bully. But I think you ought to say 
something about Jim’s good character. That's usual 
on tombstones. You might say of him that he had 
in him the makin’ of the finest poker player in the 
Army of the Cumberland. I never see a sleepy- 
headed boy pick up the fine pints o' the game like he 
did, and he had nerve, too, along with his science." 

“No, it wouldn’t do at all to put anything o’ that 
kind on,” answered Si, going to the grave, and driv- 
ing the board down with a pick. “Mustn’t let Jim’s 
folks know for the world that he gambled. It’d be 
the last straw on his poor old mother, who’s a strict 
Baptist. She may stand hearing that he’s killed, 
but never could that he played cards. What in the 
world’s become of Alf Russell, do you s’pose?" 

“Who in Jeff Davis's dominions is that cornin’ 
up?" said Shorty, scanning an approaching figure. 
“Looks as if he’d had his head busted and then tied 
up agin with strings." 

The figure certainly looked like Alf Russell and 
wore Alf Russell’s clothes, but the head was un- 
recognizable. A broad white bandage encircled the 
face, going from the top of the forehead around 
under the chin, and there were several folds of it. 
Then it ran around the head transversely, covering 
the nose and the cheeks, and only allowing the mouth 
and the eyes to show. 


224 


SI KLEGG. 


“Hello, boys,” said a weak voice, which was un- 
mistakably Alf Russell’s. 

“Hello, Alf,” said Si delightedly. “I’m so glad to 
see you. I’ve bin huntin’ everywhere for you. 
What’s happened to you? Badly hurt?” 

“Nothing, only the left side o’ my head tore out,” 
said Alf feebly. “Something struck me, probably a 
bomb-shell, just as I was going up the bank after 
you. I went down to our Surgeon, but he was toe 
busy to attend to me. I then found the brigade hos- 
pital, but the Surgeons there were too busy, too. 
They gave me a roll of bandages, and told me to fix 
it up myself. I did it with the help of one of the 
men who was waiting to have his leg dressed. I 
fancy I did quite a neat piece of bandaging, as well 
as the Surgeons themselves could’ve done it. Don’t 
you think so?” 

“Great Scott !” gasped Si, “you couldn’t be walkin’ 
around with the side of your head knocked out. I’m 
astonished at you.” 

“So’m I,” returned Alf placidly. “I’m surprised 
that I’m doing as well as I am. But I gave myself 
good attendance, and that’s a great thing. I’m awful 
hungry. Got anything to eat? Where’s my haver- 
sack?” 

“Here it is,” said Si, readily. “And here’s a cup o’ 
hot coffee. I’ll brile you a piece o’ meat. But really, 
I don’t think you ought to eat anything before the 
Surgeon sees you. Mebbe it won’t be good for you.” 

“I’ll chance it,” said Alf desperately, reaching for 
the cup of coffee. “I’m sure it’ll be better for me to 
eat something.” 

“Le’s go down and see the Surgeon,” insisted Si. 


GATHERING UP THE BOYS AFTER THE BATTLE. 225 

“No,” protested Alf, “it ain’t hurting me much now, 
and he’s awful busy with other men, so we hadn’t 
better interrupt him.” 

“The Surgeon ought to see you at once, Alf,” inter- 
jected Shorty. “Here comes one of ’em now. Doctor, 
will you please look at this boy.” 

“Certainly,” said the Surgeon, stopping on his 
way. “I guess I can spare a minute. Take off that 
bandage, my boy.” 

“Don’t mind me. Doctor,” said Alf. “’Taint hurt- 
ing me now, at all, scarcely. I did it up very care- 
fully.” 

“Take off the bandage at once, I tell you,” said the 
Surgeon imperatively. “I haven’t any time to waste. 
Let me see your wound.” 

Alf set down his cup of coffee, and began labor- 
iously unwinding the long bandage, while the rest 
stood around in anxious expectation. Yards of folds 
came off from around his forehead and chin, and 
then he reached that around his nose and the back 
of his head. Still the ghastly edges of the terrible 
wound did not develop. Finally the blood-soaked last 
layer came off, and revealed where a bullet had made 
a shallow but ugly-looking furrow across the cheek 
and made a nick in the ear. 

“Alf, that rebel come dumbed nigh missin’ you,” 
said the greatly relieved Si. 

“If you should happen to ketch cold in that it 
wouldn’t git well for a week,” added Shorty. 

“Give me that bandage,” said the Surgeon just 
before he hurried away. “Take this sticking-plaster 
and draw the lips of the wound together, and if you 
keep the dirt out it may heal without a scar.” 


8 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


AN ARTILLERY DUEL AND A ‘‘DEMONSTRATION^' ON THE 

enemy's position. 

U\\T ELL, that ain't going to heal without a 
W scar," Alf Russell consoled himself, as he 
studied his hurt with a little round pocket 
looking-glass, a screen of bushes concealing him 
from his unappreciative comrades. “It's more than 
Monty Scruggs nor Harry Joslyn nor Sandy Baker’ll 
have to show for the fight. It’s even more than Gid 
Mackall has, even though he is knocked out. I ought 
to be sent to the hospital, too. It’ll be something to 
write home to father and mother, and they’ll put it 
in the paper and the folks’ll talk about it. Gracious, 
there’s a bugle blowing again. Wonder what that 
means?" 

“That’s the Headquarters bugle," said Si, pricking 
up his ears. “That’s ‘Attention.’ Git your traps 
together, boys. ‘Assembly’ ’ll come next.” 

“Good gracious !" gasped Alf Russell, coming out 
from behind the bushes, “they don’t expect us to do 
any more fighting today, do they?" . 

“Very likely," said Shorty, helping Pete Skidmore, 
on with his blanket-roll. “The job ain’t done till it 
is done, and there’s lots o’ rebels over there yit who 
need lickin’. Now’s the best time to finish it. This 


( 226 ) 


AN ARTILLERY DUEL. 


227 


ain’t nothin’ to Stone River and Chickamaugy. Got 
your canteen full, Pete? Better fill it before we start. 
Take mine, too. Don’t go any further’n that first 
spring there, for I don’t want to take no chances on 
losin’ you again.” 

The cannonading in the distance grew fiercer, and 
regiments could be seen rushing up at the double- 
quick. Long, shrill rebel yells came from the hill- 
tops, and were answered by volleys and deep-toned 
cheers. 

Another bugle-call rang out from Brigade Head- 
quarters. 

“Fall in, Co. Q,” sharply commanded the Orderly- 
Sergeant. 

With a shiver of apprehension, with a nervous 
memory of the bitter hours just past, with the sight 
before their eyes of the scarcely-cold dead, the re- 
mainder of the company fell in with sadly-shrunken 
ranks. 

“Orderly, we need some more cartridges,” sug- 
gested Shorty. 

“I’ve been thinking of that,” replied the Orderly, 
“and wondering where to go for them.” 

“I saw some boxes of Enfields up there toward the 
battery,” said Si. “The rebels left ’em. They’ll fit 
our guns, and them English cartridges is just as 
good as ours.” 

“Pike over and get them, quick, before the other 
fellows drop on to ’em,” said the Orderly. 

“Gracious! going to shoot the rebels with their 
own bullets,” remarked Monty, who had nearly 
recovered, and came up pluckily to take his place in 
the ranks. “Isn’t that great medicine I How I should 


228 


SI KLEGG. 


like to pop one into that fellow that belted me with 
that bowlder/' 

“Hello, Monty," called Shorty jovially to drive out 
the sad thoughts. “Got that kink out o’ your back- 
bone? Bully boy. You’ve got the right kind of 
nerve. You’ll be a man before your mother yet." 

“Yes, and I’m here, too, and don’t you forget it," 
said Alf Russell, not to be outdone by Monty nor 
unnoticed. “By rights, I ought to be in the 
hospital." 

“By rights, I ought to be a Jigadier-Brindle," 
retorted Shorty, “but I never could git Abe Lincoln 
to take that view of it. Here, fill up your cartridge- 
box. You’ll need lots of ’em, if you’re only goin’ to 
shoot to crease your rebels, as that feller did you." 

It was not brilliant pleasantry, but it served. It 
set them to thinking of something else. They hastily 
filled their cartridge-boxes, adjusted their blankets, 
and when the bugle sounded forward they started 
with something of their original nerve. 

The regiment moved off at the head of the brigade, 
and after a march of a mile or so came out upon a 
hill from which they could see one of our batteries 
having an unequal fight with several of the rebel bat- 
teries in a fort far to its front. Our cannoneers were 
standing up bravely to their work, but the rebel 
shells were bursting about them in a wild storm of 
crashing, deafening explosions, and hurtling, shriek- 
ing masses of iron. The sharp crack of their own 
rifles was at times drowned by the ear-splitting din 
of the bursting shells. 

“Goodness !" murmured Monty Scruggs, with 
colorless lips, as the regiment came into line and 


AN ARTILLERY DUEL. 


229 


moved forward to the battery’s line of caissons at 
the bottom of the hill. “I’m so glad I didn’t enlist 
in the artillery. I don’t see how anybody up there 
can live a minute.” 

“Yes, it looks like as if those artillery boys are 
earnin’ their $13 a month about every second of their 
lives,” remarked Shorty. “There ought to be some 
other batteries loafin’ around somewhere that could 
join in.” 

The boys leaned on their muskets and watched the 
awful spectacle with dazed eyes. It seemed far more 
terrible even than the ordeal through which they had 
just been. 

The battery was one of the oldest and best in the 
army, and its “fire discipline” was superb. 

The Captain stood on a little elevation to the rear 
and somewhat apart, intently studying the rebel line 
through his field-glasses. After a few words of 
direction as to the pointing of the guns^ and the com- 
mand, “Begin firing,” he had given no orders, 
scarcely spoken. He could not have been heard in 
that terrible turmoil. He had simply brought his 
terrible engine of destruction — the engine upon 
which he and his men had lavished years of laborious 
drilling and training — into position, and set it going. 

What the result would be fate alone would deter- 
mine. That was a matter that neither he nor his 
men regarded. If it destroyed or crippled its oppo- 
nents it was simply doing the work for which it had 
been created. If its opponents destroyed it, that was 
a contingency to be accepted. It was there to endure 
that fate if so ordered. 

Behind the wings of the battery stood the Lieu- 


230 


SI KLEGG. 


tenants, leaning on their sabers, and gazing with 
fixed, unmoving eyes on the thunderous wrack and 
ruin. 

They said nothing. There was no reason for say- 
ing anything. Everything was working systematic- 
ally and correctly. Every man was doing his best, 
and in the best way. Nobody needed reminder, 
reprimand, direction or encouragement. 

Similarly, the Sergeants stood behind their sec- 
tions, except that one after another they stepped 
forward to the guns to take the places of men who 
had fallen and could not be replaced. At the guns 
the men were working with the swiftness of light 
flashes, and the unerring certainty of machines. To 
the watchers at the base of the slope they seemed 
to weave back and forth like some gigantic, demoniac 
loom, as they sprang at their guns, loaded them, 
^^broke away” as they fired, leaped back again, 
caught the gun in its recoil, hurled it forward, again 
reloaded, “broke away” and fired, all quicker than 
thought. A shell took off a sponger’s head, but the 
sponge-staff was caught by another before it fell, 
and the gun fired again without a pause. A shrapnel 
swept away every man about one gun. The Lieu- 
tenant looked inquiringly at the Sergeant, and in an 
instant another squad seemed to spring up from the 
ground to continue the firing without missing a note 
in the battery’s rhythm. 

The groups about each gun thinned out, as the 
shrieking fragments of shell mowed down man after 
man, but the rapidity of the fire did not slacken in 
the least. One of the Lieutenants turned and 
motioned with his saber to the riders seated on their 


AN ARTILLERY DUEL. 


231 


horses in the line of limbers under the cover of the 
slope. One rider sprang from each team and ran up 
to take the place of men who had fallen. 



HOORAY FOR THE OLD BATTERY.' 


The next minute the Lieutenant turned and 
motioned again, and another rider sprang from each 


232 


SI KLEGG. 


team and ran up the hill. But one man was now 
left to manage the six horses attached to each limber. 
He soon left, too, in obedience to the Lieutenant's 
signal, and a faint, bleeding man came back and 
climbed into his place. 

A shrapnel shell burst almost under the left gun,, 
and lifted it up in the air. When the smoke opened 
a little not a man could be seen about the cannon. A 
yell of exultation floated over from the rebel line. 

The Lieutenant unbuckled his saber, dropped it fo 
the ground, and ran forward to the cannon. Two or 
three men rose slowly from the ground, upon which 
they had been prostrated, and joined the Lieutenant 
in running the gun back to its place, and reloading U. 

“Hooray for the old battery! Bully boys! Made 
o’ right stuff,” shouted Shorty enthusiastically. 
“Never ketch me saying nothin’ agin’ the artillery 
agin. Men who act like that when they’re standin’ 
right in the middle o’ hell with the lid off are 18- 
karat fine.” 

“Captain,” suggested Si, who was fidgeting under 
the excitement of a scene in which he was taking no 
part, “wouldn’t it be well for some of us to go up 
there and help the battery boys out ? I could sponge 
and ram.” 

“No,” answered the Captain; “help has been sent 
for for them, and there it comes.” 

He pointed back over the hill to where two bat- 
teries were coming from different directions on a 
dead run. It was a magnificent sight. One battery 
was following the road, and the other cutting across 
the open space in a hot race to get ahead and be in 
action first. 


AN ARTILLERY DUEL. 


233 


The Captains were galloping ahead to point out 
the way. The Sergeants were alongside, seconding 
the whips of the drivers with strokes of the flats of 
their sabers on the animals’ hanches. The six horses 
to each gun were galloping like mad, snatching the 
heavy piece over gullies, bumps, logs, and rocks as 
if it were a straw. The gunners had abandoned their 
usual calm pose with folded arms on the limber 
chests, and were maintaining their seats only by a 
desperate clutch on the side-irons. 

The boys turned even from the storm in front to 
watch the thrilling spectacle. 

The two Captains were fairly abreast as they led 
their batteries up the long slope, crushing the brush, 
sending sticks and stones flying from the heavy, 
flying wheels. Both reached the crest at the same 
time, and the teams, wheeling around at a gallop, 
flung the muzzles of the cannon toward the enemy. 
Without waiting for them to stop the nimble can- 
noneers sprang to ground, unlimbered the guns, 
rolled them into position, sent loads down their black 
throats, and before it was fairly realized that they 
had reached the crest hurled a storm of shells across 
the valley at the rebel batteries. 

“Hooray ! Hooray ! They’re gittin’ some o’ their 
own medicine now,” yelled the excited regiment. 
“Sock it to ’em. How do you like that, you ill- 
begotten imps of rebels?” 

The rebel cannoneers seemed to lose heart at once 
under the storm of fire that beat upon them. The 
volume of their fire diminished at once, and then 
became fitful and irregular. Two of their limbers 


234 


SI KLEGG. 


were blown up in succession, with thunderous noise, 
and this further discouraged them. 

Obeying a common impulse, the 200th Ind., regard- 
less of the dropping shells, had left its position, and 
pressed forward toward the crest, where it could 
see what was going on. 

The Colonel permitted this, for he anticipated that 
a charge on the rebel works would follow the beat- 
ing down of the artillery fire, and he wanted his 
regiment to be where it would get a good start in the 
race to capture a rebel battery. He simply cautioned 
the Captains to keep their men in hand and ready. 
As Capt. McGillicuddy called Co. Q closer together, 
it occurred to Shorty that in the interest he had 
taken in the artillery duel he had not looked after 
Pete Skidmore for some time, and he began casting 
his eyes around for that youth. He was nowhere to 
be seen, and, of course, no one knew anything about 
him. 

‘'Why don’t you get a rope. Shorty, and tie the 
blamed kid to you, and not be pestering yourself and 
everybody else about him all the time?” asked the 
Orderly-Sergeant irritably, for he was deeply intent 
upon the prospective charge, and did not want to be 
bothered. “He’s more worry than he’s worth.” 

“Shut up !” roared Shorty. “If you wasn’t 
Orderly-Sergeant I’d punch your head. I won’t have 
nobody sayin’ that about little Pete. He’s the best 
boy that ever lived. If I could only git hold of him 
I’d shake the plaguey life out o’ him. Drat him !” 

Shorty anxiously scanned the field in every direc- 
tion, but without his eyes being gladdened by the 
sight of the boy. 


AN ARTILLERY DUEL. 


235 


The wounded being carried back from the bat- 
teries impressed him sadly with the thought that 
Pete might have been struck by a piece of shell. 

‘‘Him and Sandy Baker are both gone,” said the 
Orderly, looking over the company. '‘Pll buck-and- 
gag both of 'em when I catch 'em, to learn 'em to 
stay in ranks.” 

'Tndeed you won't,” said Shorty, under his breath. 

The rebel fire had completely died down, and bur 
own ceased, to allow the guns to cool for a few 
minutes, in preparation for an energetic reopening 
when the anticipated charge should be ordered. 

To be in readiness for this, the Colonel drew the 
regiment forward through the batteries, to lie down 
on the slope in front, that he might have a start on 
the other Colonels. As they passed through the bat- 
teries a little imp, about the size of Pete Skidmore, 
but with face as black as charcoal, pulled off the 
leather bag in which cartridges -are carried from the 
limber to the gun, and handed it to one of the can- 
noneers, who said : 

“Well, good-by, if you must be going. You done 
well. You ought to belong to the artillery. You're 
too good for a dough-boy. I'm going to ask the Cap- 
tain to have you detailed to us.” 

A similar scene was taking place at the next gun, 
with a little blackamoor about the size of Sandy 
Baker. 

The boys picked up their guns and belts from the 
ground, and fell in with Co. Q. 

“Hello, Corporal,” said Pete, with a capacious grin 
rifting the powder grime on his face. “We've just 
bin having lots o' fun.” 


236 


SI KLEGG. 


'‘Pete, you aggravating little brat,” said Shorty, 
giving him a cuff that started the boy’s tears to 
making little white streaks through the black, 
“where in the world have you bin, and what’ve you 
bin doin’?” 

“Why,” whimpered Pete, “me and Sandy crept 
forward to a rock where we thought we could see 
better, and then we thought we could see better from 
another, and we kept a-goin’ until we got clear up to 
where the limbers was, afore we knowed it. Just 
then a couple o’ them powder-monkeys, as you call 
’em, come runnin’ back for cartridges, but they was 
both hit, and was all bloody, and both of ’em fell 
down and couldn’t go no further, when they got the 
cartridges, though they wanted to. .Me and Sandy 
thought it was too bad that the men up there at the 
guns shouldn’t have no cartridges, when they was 
fighting so hard, so we picked up the boys’ bags and 
run up to the cannon with ’em. The men there was 
so glad to git ’em, and told us to lay down our guns 
and run back for some more. They kept us goin’ till 
the rebels was knocked out, and we thought we was 
doin’ right and helpin’, and they told us we was, and 
now you slap me. Boo-hoo-hoo !” 

“Don’t cry, Pete. I done wrong,” said Shorty, 
melting instantly, and putting his arm around the 
boy. “You done right, and you’re a brave, good little 
boy. Only you must not go away from the company 
without lettin’ me know.” 

“Good God,” groaned the Colonel, as he halted the 
regiment down the slope, and studied the opposite 
side with his glass. “There’s another abatis, and it 


AN ARTILLERY DUEL. 


237 


looks worse than the one in which we have just left 
half the regiment. But we’ll go through if there’s 
only one man left to carry the flag over the works. 
I don’t suppose that we are any better than those 
who have already died, or got any better right to 
live.” 

“This is the dumbedest country for cuttin’ down 
trees the wrong way,” Si sadly remarked, as he sur- 
veyed the abatis. “It’s meaner’n midnight murder. 
I’d like to git hold o’ the pizen whelp what invented 
it.” 

“The devil invented abatis, just after he invented 
hell, and as an improvement on it, and just before 
he invented secession,” Shorty judged hotly. “When 
we git through them abatis there I’m goin’ to kill 
everything I An'S, just to learn ’em to stop sich 
heathenish work. It’s sneakin’ murder, not war.” 

“When we get through,” murmured Alf Russel] 
dolefully. “How many of us will ever get through?” 

“Who’ll be the Jim Humphreys and Gid Mackall 
this time?” said Monty Scruggs, looking at the 
tangled mass of tree-tops. 

“Can you see any path through this abatis, Ser^ 
geant?” nervously asked Harry Joslyn. 

“No, Harry,” said Si, kindly and encouragingly. 
“But we’ll And some way to git through. There’s 
probably a path that we kin strike. Stay close by 
me, and we’ll try our best.” 

“Well, I for one am goin’ through, and I’m goin’ 
to take Pete and Sandy with me,” said Shorty, in a 
loud, confldent tone, to brace up the others. “I’ve 
always gone through every one o’ them things I’ve 


238 


SI KLEGG. 


struck yit, and this ain’t no worse’n the others. But 
we ought to jump ’em at once, while they’re shiverin’ 
over the shelling’ we give ’em. They must be shakin’ 
up there yit like a dog on a January mornin’. Why 
don’t we start, I wonder?” 

The batteries behind them began throwing shells 
slowly and deliberately, as if testing their range, 
before beginning a general cannonade. All along the 
crest, to their right and to their left, could be seen 
regiments moving up and going into line of battle. 

'Tt’s goin’ to be a big smash this time, sure,” said 
Si. “And the 200th Injianny’s got a front seat at 
the performance. We’ll show them how to do it, and 
we’re just the ones that kin. Brace up, boys. The 
eyes of the whole army’s on us. They expect big 
things from us.” 

“Here she goes, I guess,” he continued, as a bugle 
sounded at headquarters. “Everybody git ready to 
jump at the word, and not stop goin’ till we’re inside 
the works.” 

The lines stiffened, every one drew a long breath, 
gripped his gun, and braced himself for the fiery 
ordeal. There was an anxious wait, and then the 
Adjutant came walking quietly down the line, with 
his horse’s bridle over his arm. 

“It seems,” he explained to Capt. McGillicuddy, 
loud enough for the company to hear, “that we are 
not to make an assault, after all. There’s enough 
rebels over there in the works to eat us up without 
salt. We are ordered to only make a demonstration, 
and hald them, while the rest work down on their 
flanks toward Calhoun, which is six miles below, and 


AN ARTILLERY DUEL. 


239 


get in their rear. You can let your men rest in place 
till further orders.'' 

“Take the company Orderly," said the Captain, 
walking off with the Adjutant. 

“'Tention! Stack arms; Place rest!" commanded 
the Orderly. 

The revulsion of feeling among the keenly- 
wrought-up men was almost painful. 

“Demonstration be blamed," said Si, sinking upon 
a convenient rock. “I always did hate foolin’. 
Gracious, how tired I am." 

“Only a demonstration — only powow, noise, show 
and bluff," sneered Shorty, flinging his gun against 
the stack. “Why didn't they tell us this an hour ago, 
and save me all this wear and tear that's makin' me 
old before my time? When I git ready for a fight I 
want it to come off, without any postponement on 
account of weather. Come, Pete, go wash your 
face and hands, and then we'll spread our blankets 
and lay down. Fm tireder'n a mule after crossin’ 
Rocky Face Ridge. I don't want to take another 
step, nor even think, till I git a good sleep." 

“We don't have to go over that brush, then?" said 
Alf Russell, with an expression of deep relief. “Fm 
so glad. Great Jerusalem, how my wound begins to 
ache again. You fellows oughtn't to laugh at my 
wound. You don't know how it hurts to have all 
those delicate nerves tom up." 

So it was with every one. The moment the excite- 
ment of the impending fight passed away, every one 
was sinking with fatigue, and all his other troubles 
came back. Monty Scruggs suddenly remembered 


240 


SI KLEGG. 


how badly he had been hurt, and started to drag him- 
self off in search of the Surgeon, while Harry Joslyn 
and Sandy Baker, chumming together for the first 
time, snuggled together in their blankets, and sought 
that relief from the excitement and fatigues of the 
day which kindly Nature never refuses to healthy 
young bodies. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


SI AND SHORTY ARE PUT UNDER ARREST. 

T he next morning the rebels were found to be 
gone from the position in front of the 200th 
Ind., and after breakfast the regiment 
marched leisurely by a road around the dreaded 
abatis, to the ground which had been scarred and 
mangled by our terrible artillery fire. 

It was an appalling scene that the eyes of the boys 
rested upon. Every horrid form of mutilation and 
death which could be inflicted by the jagged shards 
and fiendish shells, or the even more demon-like 
shrapnel-balls, was visible. 

Everything was torn, rent, and ragged, as if some 
mighty giant, insane to destroy, had spent his fury 
there. Nothing had escaped the iron flail of devasta- 
tion. Trees shattered or cut entirely down ; limber- 
chests and cannon-wheels merely bunches of black- 
ened splinters; frightfully mangled horses, dead, or 
yet living in agony that filled their great plaintive 
eyes; lying in ghastly pools of blood, which filmed 
and clotted under the bright rays of the May morn- 
ing sun. 

^‘Looks like Judgment morn or the fall of Baby- 
lon,’' muttered the religious-minded Alf Russell, the 
first to break their awed silence. 


( 241 ) 


242 


SI KLEGG. 


“Or the destruction of Sennacherib,” suggested 
Monty Scruggs — 

“For the angel of death spread his wings on the 
blast, 

And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed.” 



AWFUL DESTRUCTION. 


“I should say he had a mighty strong breath, 
Monty,” Shorty interrupted. He liked to break in 
on Monty’s heroics. “Excuse me from havin’ a 12- 
pounder breathin’ around me.” 




SI AND SHORTY UNDER ARREST. 


243 


“And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, 
And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew 
still, 

continued Monty. 

“I’ll bet there wasn’t much sleepin’ around here 
while that shellin’ was goin’ on,” broke in Shorty 
again. “Except the sleep that has the sod for a 
coverlet and Gabriel’s trumpet for a breakfast bell.” 
Monty continued impressively : 

“And there lay the steed, with his nostrils all wide. 
But through them there rolled not the breath of his 
pride ; 

And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf. 
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.” 

“Poor horses,” murmured Shorty. “I always feel 
mighty sorry for them. They hadn’t nothin’ to do 
with gittin’ up this rebellion. We must go around 
and kill such as is alive, and put them out o’ their 
misery.” 

Monty resumed: 

“And there lay the rider, distorted and pale. 

With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail ; 
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone. 

The lances uplifted, the trumpets unblown.” 

“Serves ’em right, the yaller-bellied, clay-eatin’ 
yowlers,” said Shorty savagely, looking over the 
mangled corpses. “Pays ’em up for their murderin’ 
abatis. We got it in this time worse on them than 
they did on us, though it’d take as much of this as’d 
make up several Counties to pay up for any one o’ 


244 


SI KLEGG. 


the good boys we lost yesterday. I hope they are all 
where they kin look down and see how we got it on 
the secesh hell-hounds. We’ll do ’em up worse yit 
before we’re through with ’em.” 

‘‘Our batteries are improvin’ wonderfully,” com- 
mented the more practical Si, studying the field. 
“They seem to’ve socked every shell in just where 
it’d do the most good. No shootin’ at the State o’ 
Georgy generally and trustin’ to luck to hit a rebel. 
Every shell seems to’ve landed just where it was 
needed, and then ’tended to its business and busted. 
You don’t see no signs of any strikin’ a quarter of a 
mile away, nor a whole one layin’ around anywhere. 
That’s good gunnin’, and I’m glad our old six-hoss 
thrashin’-machine done the biggest share of it. Our 
brigade has the best battery in the whole army.” 

“The regiment will go on,” reported Orderly-Ser- 
geant, “but Co. Q will stay behind to bury the dead, 
gather up the arms and things, and then bring up 
the brigade ammunition train.” 

“Stay behind to bury the dead,” grumbled Shorty. 
“Nice business that! Sextons to the Southern Con- 
federacy. Hain’t they got any niggers around here 
that they kin set at the work ?” 

Nor did Si like the job. “The artillery made the 
muss, and now the infantry’s got to stay and clean 
up after it. That don’t seem right.” 

“Well, orders is orders, and got to be obeyed,” said 
the Orderly-Sergeant, cutting short the discussion 
with the usual formulary of his class. An Orderly- 
Sergeant is robbed of one of the cherished privileges 
of the other enlisted men. He can not criticise or 


SI AND SHORTY UNDER ARREST. 


245 


grumble, but must stop the others from doing so 
beyond a certain point, and his refuge must be the 
prompt assumption that the orders are all right, and 
must be executed cheerfully. And he has not the 
satisfaction of the officers above him in knowing the 
why and wherefore of the orders, and perhaps ad- 
vising as to them. He is “betwixt and between,” as 
they say out West. 

“The quicker we get at it,” continued the Orderly, 
“the sooner it’ll be over. Serg’t Klegg, take eight or 
10 men and hunt around for some picks and shovels. 
I think that deep trench over there behind the works 
’ll do for a grave. You can shovel the bank right 
down on them and save hard work. Serg’t Wilson, 
you take eight or 10 men and gather up these pieces 
o’ men and lay them in there. Corp’l Jones, you take 
another man or two and go around and kill those 
horses. Be careful how you shoot now. Don’t hurt 
anybody with glancing bullets. Corp’l Elliott, you 
take the rest and go round and gather the guns and 
other things, and pile them up there by that tree to 
turn over to the ordnance officer. Hustle, now, all of 
you.” 

“They didn’t think they were digging their own 
graves,” philosophized Monty Scruggs, as he stood 
shovel in hand watching the remains being gathered 
into the trench. 

• 

“He digged a ditch, he digged it deep ; 

He digged it for his brother. 

But for his great sin he fell in 
The ditch he’d digged for t’other.” 


246 


SI KLEGG. 


“Good, good, Monty,” said Si. “That's the best 
thing I've heard you spout yit. Give us some more 
of it.” 

“There isn't any more of it. The only thing I can 
think of is : 

“The rebel Solomon Grundy; 

Born in Georgia on Monday; 

Become a rebel on Tuesday; 

Run off from Buzzard’s Roost on Wednesday; 

Got licked at Dalton on Thursday; 

Worse whipped at Resaca on Friday ; 

Blown up by a shell on Saturday ; 

Died and buried on Sunday ; 

And this was the end of Solomon Grundy.” 

Alf Russell's interest in anatomy had led him to 
join Serg't Wilson's party in gathering up the 
ghastly fragments of bodies, but the sights were too 
much for his nerves, and as he perceived that he 
was growing sick at the stomach he went over to 
Shorty's squad. 

It was astonishing what things they found, besides 
guns and equipments. Evidently, the rebels had left 
quite hurriedly, and many personal belongings were 
either forgotten or could not be found in the dark- 
ness. Samples of about everything that soldiers 
carry, and a good many that they are not supposed 
to, were found lying around. There were cooking 
utensils, some on the fire, with corn-pone and meat 
in them ; some where the imperative orders to march 
found their owners with their breakfasts half- 
devoured; there were hats clumsily fashioned of 


SI AND SHORTY UNDER ARREST. 247 

wisps of long-leaved pine sewed together ; there were 
caps which had been jaunty red-and-blue “Zouaves” 
when their owners had mustered around Nashville 
in 1861, but had been faded and tarnished and frayed 
by the mud and rain at Donelson, Shiloh and Stone 
River, and by the dust and grime of Perryville and 
Chickamauga, until they had as little semblance to 
their former perkiness as the grim-visaged war had 
to the picnic of capturing ungarrisoned forts and 
lolling in pleasant Summer camps on the banks of 
the Cumberland. There were coats of many pat- 
terns and stages of dilapidation, telling the same 
story of former finery, draggled through the in- 
jurious grime of a thousand camps and marches. 
There were patched and threadbare blankets, 
tramped-out boots and shoes, an occasional book, 
many decks of cards, and so on. 

Shorty came across a new cedar canteen with 
bright brass hoops. He slung it over his shoulder, 
with the thought that it would be a nice thing to send 
back to Maria, as a souvenir of the battle. She 
might hang it up in her room, or make a pin-cushion 
or a work-basket out of it. 

Presently he came to a box of shells, which he 
picked up and carried back to the tree. It was quite 
heavy, and when he set it down again he felt thirsty. 
The canteen occurred to him. It was full. He raised 
it to his lips and took a long swig. 

“Great Jehosephat,” he gasped, his eyes starting 
out with astonishment. “That ain’t water. It’s prime 
old applejack, smoother’n butter, and smellin’ 
sweeter’n a rose. Best I ever tasted.” 

Shorty had been strictly abstinent since his return 


248 


SI KLEGG. 


from Indiana. The rigid views of the Klegg family 
as to liquor-drinking had sunk into his heart, and 
somehow whenever temptation came his way the 
clear, far-seeing eyes of Maria would intervene with 
such a reproachful glance that the thought of yield- 
ing became repugnant. 

But the smooth, creamy applejack had slipped past 
his lips so unexpectedly that it possessed him, before 
principle could raise an objection. Shorty was the 
kind of a man to whom the first drink is the greatest 
danger. After he had one almost anything was 
likely to happen. 

Still, though his blood was already warming with . 
the exhilarating thrill, there were some twinges of 
conscience. 

“Now, I mustn’t take no more o’ that,” he said to 
himself. “That one drink was good and all right 
enough, because I really thought I was goin’ to take 
a drink of water when I put the canteen to my lips. 

I could swear that to Maria on a stack o’ Bibles high 
as her dear head. God bless her!” 

He began bustling about with more activity, and 
giving his orders in a louder voice. He saw Pete 
Skidmore pick up what had been once a militia 
officer’s gaudy coat, and examine it curiously. He 
shouted at him: 

“Here, drop that, drop that, you little brat. What 
M I tell you? That you mustn’t tetch a rag of any- 
thing you see in here, except with the point o’ your 
bayonet and with your bayonet on your gun. Dron 
it, I tell you.” 

“Why, what’s the matter with that old coat?” 


SI AND SHORTY UNDER ARREST. 


249 


asked Pete in an injured tone, astonished at Shorty’s 
vehemence. 

‘‘Everything’s the matter with it, and every stitch 
o’ cloth you find. They’re swarmin’ with rebel bugs. 
I’ve trouble enough to keep the Yankee graybacks 
off you. If you git the rebel kind on you angwintum 
won’t save you.” 

Pete dropped the coat in affright. 

“And you, Sandy Baker, continued Shorty in a 
yell, “don’t you walk through them piles o’ brush and 
leaves, where the rebels has bin sleep in’. You’ll git 
covered with rebel bugs, too, and we’ll never git ’em 
out o’ the company. How often ’ve I got to tell you 
that?” 

Yelling so much made him dry, and the canteen 
hung so invitingly near his hand. 

“I don’t think another pull at that old applejack 
’ll hurt me a mite. I really didn’t git a square drink 
the first time, because I was choked off by astonish- 
ment at findin’ it wasn’t water. I’ll just take enough 
of a swig to finish up that drink.” 

“Jerusalem crickets,” he exclaimed, wiping his 
mouth, “but that’s good stuff. Wonder if bein’ in 
cedar makes it taste so bang-up? If I though so I’d 
never drink out o’ anything but cedar as long’s I 
lived. Guess I’ll keep this canteen to carry water in. 
I kin send Maria” 

He stopped. He was not so far gone as to forget 
that any thought of Maria was very inappropriate 
to his present condition. He started to blustering at 
the boys who were carrying in guns : 

“Here, how often have I got to caution you galoots 
about bein’ careful with them guns? Don’t let the 


250 


SI KLEGG. 


muzzles pint at yourselves, nor anybody else. They’re 
all likely to be loaded, and go off any minute, and 
blow some o’ your cussed heads offen you. Don’t 
slam ’em down that way. Be careful with ’em, I tell 
you. I’ll come over there and larrup some o’ you, 
if you don’t mind me.” 

“What’s excitin’ Shorty so, to make him yell that 
way? wondered Si, stopping in his shoveling down 
the embankment upon the rebel dead, and wiping his 
hot face. 

“0, he’s trying to keep them fresh young kids 
from blowin’ themselves into Kingdom Come with 
the rebel guns,” answered one of the veterans in- 
differently, and they resumed their shoveling. 

Shorty started over to where some of the boys 
were trying to extricate a rebel limber abandoned 
in a ravine. He spied a pair of fine field glasses 
lying on the ground, and picked them up with an 
exclamation of delight. 

“Great Jehosephat,” he said, turning them over 
for careful inspection. “Ain’t this a puddin’? Just 
the thing to give the Cap. He got his smashed with 
a bullet cornin’ through the abatis, and’s bin mourn- 
in’ about ’em ever since. These is better’n his was, 
and he’ll be ticked to death to git ’em. 

He put them to his eyes and scanned the land- 
scape. 

“Ain’t they just daisies, though. Bring that 
teamster over there so close that I kin hear him 
cussin’ his mules. Cap’ll have a better pair o’ 
glasses than the Colonel or the General has. He de- 
serves ’em, too. Capt. McGillicuddy’s good all the 
way through, from skin to bone, and as brave as 


SI AND SHORTY UNDER ARREST. 


251 


they make ’em. He’ll be tickleder than a boy with 
a new pair o’ red-topped boots. He’ll invite me to 
take a drink with him, but he won’t have nothin’ so 
good as this old apple-jack. I guess I’ll give the rest 
to him, too, for his friends at headquarters. They 
don’t often smack their lips over stuff like that. But 
I’ll treat myself once more, just as Capt. McGilli- 
cuddy’d do.” 

The last drink was a settler. He was then in a 
frame of mind for anything — to tear down a moun- 
tain, or lift a hill, or to fight anybody, with or with- 
out cause. He looked over at the boys struggling 
with the limber, and yelled, as he laid his coat, hat, 
canteen, and cartridge-box down on the stump upon 
which he had been sitting, and placed the field-glass 
upon them: 

‘^Hoopee! Yank her out o’ there, boys. Yank her 
out, and don’t be all day about it, either. Let me git 
at her and I’ll fetch her out. Stand by, you kids, and 
see your uncle Eph snatch her.” 

He bolted in to the ravine, swung the limber- 
tongue about, and with aid of the rest, stirred to 
united effort by much profane vociferation on his 
part, disengaged the limber and trundled it up the 
bank. 

The tall, very stiff young Aid, with whom Si and 
Shorty had had the previous affair, came stalking 
on to the ground, viewing everything with his usual 
cold, superior, critical gaze. 

''You are doing well, my man,” he remarked to 
Shorty, "but too much noise. A non-commissioned 
officer must not swear at his men. It’s strictly 
against regulations.” 


252 


SI KLEGG. 


“Go to blazes/' said Shorty, scarcely under his 
breath. The Aid picked up the field-glasses, looked 
at them a minute, scanned the field with them, and 
then looked around for the case, as if to appropriate 
them himself. 

“Here, drop them,” said Shorty roughly. “Them's 
mine.” 

“How did they come to be yours, sir?” said the Aid 
sternly. “Picked them up, didn't you ?” 

“None o' your business how I got 'em. They’re 
mine, I tell you. Give 'em to me.” 

“You picked them up on the battlefield, sir. They 
are military equipments which you must turn over 
to the proper officer. I’ll take charge of them my- 
self.” 

“You’ll do nothin' o' the kind,” roared Shorty, 
striding up to him. “Give me them glasses.” 

“I shall do nothing of the kind,” said the Aid 
sternly. “Don’t you dare approach me in that way. 
Go back to your duties at once. I shall punish you 
for disrespect to me and threatening an officer. Fall 
back, sir, I tell you.” 

Shorty made a grab for the glasses, which the Aid 
tried to evade, but Shorty fixed his firm clutch upon 
them. The Aid held on tightly, but Shorty wrenched 
them from his grasp. 

“You bob-tailed brevet West Pointer,” said Shorty 
savagely, raising his fist, “I’ve a notion to break you 
in two for tryin’ to beat me out o' what’s mine. Git 
out o' here, or I'll” 

“Shorty ! Shorty ! Stop that !” shouted Si, rushing 
over to his partner, and catching his back-drawn fist. 
He had been suspicious as to the cause of his part- 


SI AND SHORTY UNDER ARREST. 


253 


ner’s noisiness, and ran up as soon as the disturb- 
ance began. ‘‘Stop it, I say. Are you crazy?” 

Poor little Pete, badly excited as to what was hap- 
pening to his best friend, was nervously fumbling 
his gun and eyeing the Aid. 

“Si Klegg, go off and mind your own business, and 
let me attend to mine,” yelled Shorty, struggling to 
free himself from his partner’s iron grasp. “Am I 
goin’ to be run over by every pin-feather snipe from 
West Point? I’ll break him in two.” 

“Sergeant,” commanded the Aid, reaching to take 
the field-glasses from Shorty’s hand ; “buck and gag 
that man at once. Knock him down if he resists. 
Knock him down, I say.” 

“You tend to your own business and I’ll tend to 
mine. Go away from here, and don’t say anything 
to make him madder, you wasp-waisted errand boy,” 
said Si savagely, as he thrust himself in between the 
Aid and Shorty. “I’ve got enough to do to take care 
of him. Go off, if you don’t want him to mash you.” 

Little Pete had an idea. He wriggled in between, 
snatched the glasses, and made off with them. 

The Brigade Provost-Marshal rode up and sternly 
demanded what the disturbance was about. Shorty 
began a hot harrangue against young staff officers 
generally, and this particular offender, but Si got his 
arm across his mouth and muffled his speech. The 
Provost listened to the Aid’s bitter indictment 
against both Si and Shorty. 

“Put both those men under arrest,” he said to the 
Orderly-Sergeant, “and make a list of the witnesses. 
I’ll court-martial them at the first halting place.” 


CHAPTER XX. 


SHORTY IS ARRAIGNED BEFORE THE COURT-MARTIAL. 

T O REST, refit after the sharp fighting and 
marching, and to wait for the slightly 
wounded and other convalescents to come up, 
the brigade went into camp on the banks of the 
Oostenaula River, near Calhoun, Ga., and about 20 
miles south of Dalton, which had been the objective 
at the opening of the campaign. 

And while the men were washing and mending 
their clothes, it was decided to put the discipline of 
the brigade, which had suffered similarly by the 
rough campaign, through a somewhat like process of 
furnishing and renovation. 

A court-martial was ordered, “to try such cases as 
may be brought before it.’’ 

The court convened with all the form and cere- 
mony prescribed by the Army Regulations for 
tribunals which pass judgment upon the pay, honor 
and lives of officers and men. 

The officers detailed for the court sent back to the 
baggage wagons, and got their wrinkled dress-suits 
out of the valises, they buttoned these to their 
throats, donned their swords, sashes and white 
gloves, and gathered stiffly and solemnly about a 
long, rough table, which had been put up under the 


( 254 ) 


SHORTY BEFORE THE COURT-MARTIAL 


255 


spreading limbs of giant oaks. Guards pacing at a 
little distance kept all the curious and inquisitive 
out of earshot. The camp gossips, full of interest 
as to the fate of those who were to be tried, could see 
an aggravating pantomime acted out, but hear no 
word. 

A squad of offenders of various degrees of turpi- 
tude ranging from absence without leave to sleeping 
on post, were huddled together under the Provost 
Guard, while Si and Shorty, being non-commissioned 
officers, were allowed to remain with their company, 
to be produced by Capt. McGillicuddy when wanted. 
They kept themselves rigidly apart from the rest of 
the company, repelling the freely-offered sympathy 
of their comrades. Si was most deeply concerned , 
about Shorty, who was so desperate over his fall 
from grace, that he regretted that he had not killed 
the young Aid, while he was at him, so as to have 
relieved his comrades of him, and made his own con- 
demnation and execution sure. 

'‘Old Maj. Truax, of the 1st Oshkosh, is President 
of the court,’' said the Orderly-Sergeant, as the com- 
pany was anxiously canvassing the boys’ chances. 

"Gosh, that settles it,” groaned Jerry Wilkinson; 
"that old bull o’ the woods ’d rather shoot a man than 
not. He’s always lookin’ around for some excuse for 
sculping a man, and the less he has the savager he 
is.” 

"I don’t believe it,” said the Orderly. "I’ve 
watched old Truax, when he’s been roaring around, 
and I always found that he was after somebody that 
deserved it. Men of that kind are pretty certain to 
be very soft on good soldiers, like Si and Shorty,' and 


256 


SI KLEGG. 


I think he's all right. The boys of the 1st Oshkosh 
all swear by him, and you can trust a man’s own 
regiment to know him surer than anybody else. And 
then there’s Capts. Suter and Harris, of the Maumee 
Muskrats.” 

'Terrible strict,” muttered Jerry despairingly. 

“Lieuts. Newton and Bonesteel, of the Kan- 
kakees,” continued the Orderly. 

“Good men — promoted from the ranks, and re- 
member that they once carried a gun themselves.” 

“Lieut. McJimsey, of the staff.” 

“A wasp-waisted West Pointer, raw^ from school ; 
thinks he’s learned all there’s to know about war out 
of a book on friggernometry. Has no more feelin’ 
, for a private soljer than I have for a mule. Calls 
’em 'my men,’ roared Jerry. 

“And as he’s only a Second Lieutenant he’ll have 
the first vote,” sighed the Orderly. “And Lieut. 
Bowersox is to be the Judge-Advocate. He’ll have 
to do the prosecuting. I know he hates the job. He 
thinks the world and all of Si and Shorty, but he’s 
the kind of a man to do his duty without fear, favor 
or affection. And all of us ’ll have to testify. Dumb 
Shorty’s fool soul ! Why didn’t he get up his ruction 
somewhere where the boys couldn’t see him, and 
know nothing about it! I’ve no patience with him 
or Si.” 

Lieut. Steigermeyer, the complainant, stalked by in 
solemn dignity. 

“Can’t I shoot that dod-blasted Aid, and save 
Shorty, and take it all on myself?” blubbered little 
Pete, who had been in tears ever since he had seen 
the grave assemblage of officers in full dress. 


SHORTY BEFORE THE COURT-MARTIAL. 257 


‘‘Shut up, you little fool,” said the Orderly sav- 
agely. In the selfishness of his sorrow it made him 
angry to see anybody else show more grief than his. 



SHORTY REPORTS FOR TRIAL. 


The Orderly, in stating Lieut. Bowersox’s position, 
forgot, or was not aware of the fact, that while the 
Judge-Advocate represents the Government at a trial 


9 



258 


SI KLEGG. 


as the Prosecuting Attorney, he is also the counsel 
for the defense ; a dual role which has important and 
frequently unexpected results. 

After the members were duly seated according to 
rank, with Maj. Truax at the head of the table, Lieut. 
Bowersox read the order for holding the court, and 
called the names of the members. He then said : 

“Gentlemen, the first case I shall present to your 
notice is one of exceeding gravity, affecting a mem- 
ber of my own regiment. As it is the most import- 
ant case that you shall have to consider, I thought it 
best that it should be disposed of first. Sergeant, 
bring in Corp’l William L. Elliott, Co. Q, 200th Ind. 
Volunteer Infantry.’" 

Shorty entered the court with an air of extrema 
depression in face and manner, instead of the usual 
confident self-assertion which seemed to flow from 
every look and motion. He stood with eyes fixed 
upon the ground. 

“Prisoner,” said Lieut. Bowersox, “this court has 
met to try you. Look around upon the members, and 
see if there is any one’ to whom you have objection. 
If so, state it.” 

Shorty glanced listlessly from the head of the 
table toward the foot. There his eye rested on the 
Second Lieutenant for a minute, and then he mut- 
tered to himself, “No, he’s no worse than the rest 
ought to be on me,” and shook his head in answer 
to the Judge-Advocate’s formal question. 

“You will each of you rise, hold up your right 
hand and be sworn,” said the Judge- Advocate, and 
they each pronounced after him the prolix and pon- 
derous oath prescribed by the regulations : 


SHORTY BEFORE THE COURT-MARTIAL. 


259 


“You, Maj. Benjamin Truax, do swear that you 
will well and truly try and determine, according to 
evidence, the matter now before you, between the 
United States of America and the prisoner to be 
tried, and, that you will dul 3 ^ administer justice, 
according to the provisions of an act establishing 
rules and articles for the government of the armies 
of the United States, without partiality, favor or 
affection ; and if any doubt shall arise, not explained 
by said articles, according to your understanding 
and the custom of war in such cases. And ydu do 
further swear, that you will not divulge the sentence 
of the court, until it shall be published by proper 
authority; neither will you disclose or discover the 
vote or opinion of any particular member of the 
court-martial, unless required to give evidence there- 
of, as a witness, by a court of justice in due course of 
law. So help you Gods” 

The President then took the book and adminis- 
tered the same oath to the Judge- Advocate. 

“I shall now read the charges and specifications,” 
said the Judge- Advocate, “which are as follows, and 
he read with sonorous impressiveness : 

CHARGE 1. — Insulting, Threatening, and Strik- 
ing Superior Officer. 

Specification L — That Corp’l William L. Elliott, 
Co. Q, 200th Ind. Vol. Inf., did strike and perform 
other physical violence upon Second Lieut. Adolph 
Steigermeyer, of the Second Corps, U. S. Engr’s, who 
was his superior officer, and in the performance of 
his duty, in violation of the 9th Article of War, and 
contrary to the discipline of the Armies of the United 
States. This on the march of the army from Dalton, 


260 


SI KLEGG. 


Ga., to Calhoun, Ga., and on the 16th day of May, 
1864. 

Specification II . — That said Corp’l William L. 
Elliott, Co. Q, 200th Ind. Vol. Inf., did threaten 
physical violence to the said Second Lieut. Adolph 
Steigermeyer, Second Corps, U. S. *Engr’s, his 
superior officer, and who was in the performance of 
his duty, contrary to the 9th Article of War, and the 
discipline of the Armies of the United States. This 
on the march of the army from Dalton, Ga., to Cal- 
houn, Ga., and on the 16th day of May, 1864. 

Specification III . — That said Corp’l William L. 
Elliott, Co. Q, 200th Ind. Vol. Inf., did insult with 
many opprobrious words, the said Adolph Steiger- 
meyer, Second Corps, U. S. Engr’s, his superior 
officer, in the presence of many enlisted men, in viola- 
tion of the 6th Article of War and of the discipline of 
the Armies of the United States. This on the march 
of the army from Dalton, Ga., to Calhoun, Ga., and 
on the 16th day of May, 1864. 

CHARGE 2 . — Drunkenness on duty. 

Specification I . — That said Corp’l William L. 
Elliott, Co. Q, 200th Ind.. Vol. Inf., being then on 
duty, and in command of a squad of men, was openly 
and noisely intoxicated and drunk, and incapable of 
performing said duty, in violation of the 45th Article 
of war, and the discipline of the Armies of the 
United States. This on the march of the army from 
Dalton, Ga., to Calhoun, Ga., and on the 16th day of 
May, 1864. 

CHARGE 3 . — Misappropriating Public Property. 

Specification I . — That said Corp4 William L. Elli- 
ott, being charged with the duty of gathering up and 


SHORTY BEFORE THE COURT-MARTIAL. 


261 


accounting for the property captured from and 
abandoned by the enemy, did appropriate to himself, 
attempt to conceal, and refuse to deliver to his 
superior officer a portion thereof, to wit, one pair of 
field glasses, in violation of the 58th Article of War, 
and contrary to the discipline of the Armies of the 
United States. This on the march of the enemy from 
Dalton, Ga., to Calhoun, Ga., and on the 16th day of 
May, 1864. 

'‘0, goodness gracious!” murmured little Pete 
Skidmore, almost fainting with terror, in the covert 
of oak leaves, just above the court’s head, whither 
he had noiselessly climbed, to overhear everything. 
‘•He’s a-goner, sure ! They’ll shoot him, sure as guns. 
Saltpeter won’t save him. He’s broke every Article 
o’ War in the whole book. My, what will I do?” 

He slipped down and communicated his informa- 
tion to the anxiously-expectant comrades of Co. Q. 

“It mayn’t be as bad as we expect,” the Orderly- 
Sergeant tried to console them. “The bite of most 
of them regulations and charges and specifications 
ain’t never near as bad as their bark. If they were, 
a good many of us would have been shot long ago. 
My experience in the army’s been that the regula- 
tions are like the switches the teachers used to have 
in school — a willow for the good scholars, and a stout 
hickory for the bad ones. Still, I’m afraid that 
Shorty won’t get off with less than hard labor for 
life on the fortifications.” 

“Prisoner, you have heard the charges and speci- 
cations,” said Lieut. Bowersox, in a stern voice. 
“How do you plead to them?” 


262 


SI KLEGG. 


‘‘0, I’m guilty — guilty o’ the whole lot,” said 
Shorty dejectedly. 

'‘Inasmuch,” said Lieut. Bowersox, with an entire 
change of tone, “as it is my duty to represent the 
prisoner’s interests as counsel, I shall disregard his 
plea, and enter one of not guilty.” 

Shorty started to gasp. “But I done all that” 

“Silence,” thundered Lieut. Bowersox, “you are 
only to speak, sir, when I or some other member of 
the court ask you a question.” 

“But has the Judge-Advocate the right to disre- 
gard the plain plea?” Lieut. McJimsey started to 
inquire, when the President interrupted with 

“Lieutenant, we can have no discussion of the 
court’s practices in the presence of the prisoner. If 
you want to enter upon that we shall have to clear 
the court. Do you desire that?” 

There was something in the bluff old Major’s tone 
that made the Lieutenant think this inadvisable, and 
he signified the negative. 

“Call your first witness, then, Judge-Advocate,’' 
said Maj. Truax, with a wave of his hand. 

Lieut. Steigermeyer, in full-dress, even to epaulets, 
rigidly erect and sternly important as to look, testi- 
fied that he was a Second Lieutenant in the Regular 
Army, but had the staff rank of Captain and Inspec- 
tor-General, and after going out of his way to allude 
to the laxness of discipline he found prevailing in the 
Western armies, testified that on the day mentioned, 
while in pursuance of his duty, he was going over the 
battlefield, he came upon the prisoner, whose drunken 
yelling attracted his attention ; that he had admon- 
ished him, and received insults in reply 


SHORTY BEFORE THE COURT-MARTIAL. 263 


“My way is to knock a man down, when he gives 
me any back talk,” remarked the Major, sotto voce, 
taking a fresh chew of tobacco. “That’s better than 
court-martialing to promote discipline.” 

“Further admonitions,” continued the Lieutenant, 
“had the same result, and I was about to call a guard 
to put him under arrest, when I happened to notice 
a pair of field-glasses that the prisoner had picked 
up, and was evidently intending to appropriate to 
his own use, and not account for them. This was 
confirmed by his approaching me in a menacing man- 
ner, insolently demanding their return, and threaten- 
ing me in a loud voice if I did not give them up, 
which I properly refused to do, and ordered a Ser- 
geant who had come up to seize and buck-and-gag 
him. The Sergeant, against whom I shall appear 
later, did not obey my orders, but seemed to abet his 
companion’s gross insubordination. The scene finally 
culminated, in the presence of a number of enlisted 
men, in the prisoner’s wrenching the field-glasses 
away from me by main force, and would have struck 
me had not the Sergeant prevented this. It was such 
an act as in any other army in the world would have 
subjected the offender to instant execution. It was 
only possible in” 

“Pardon me. Lieutenant — I should perhaps say 
Captain” — interrupted Lieut. Bowersox, with much 
sweetness of manner, “but the most of us are 
familiar with your views as to the inferiority of the 
discipline of the Western Armies to that of the Army 
of the Potomac and European armies, so that we 
need not take up the time of the court with its reiter- 
ation. What farther happened?” 


264 


SI KLEGG. 


“Nothing. The Provost Guard came up at that 
moment, and I directed a Sergeant to place the two 
principal offenders in custody, and secure the names 
of the witnesses.’’ 

“Is that all. Captain?” 

“Yes, except that in closing my testimony I feel 
that it is my duty to impress upon the court that so 
flagrant a case as this should be made the oppor- 
tunity for an example in the interests of discipline 
in the whole army. I have known this prisonei* for 
some time, and watched him. This is not the first 
time that he and the Sergeant have insulted me. They 
are leaders in that class of uneducated fellows who 
have entirely too little respect for officers and gentle- 
men. They should be taught a lesson. This is neces- 
sary for the dignity and effectiveness of gentlemen 
who bear commissions, and” 

“I will ask the witness if this lecture on military 
ethics is a part of his testimony?” asked the Major. 

“I think it is needed,” answered the Lieutenant 
tartly. 

“Let me see, Steigermeyer,” said the Major, 
adjusting another chew of tobacco to his mouth, and 
balancing the knife with which he had cut it off, 
judicially in his fingers, a favorite position of his 
when, as a lawyer, he was putting a witness through 
a cross-examination. “How long have you been with 
this army? Came West with the Eleventh . Corps, 
didn’t you ?” 

“No; I was left behind on duty. I didn’t come for 
several weeks after.” 

“So I thought. You weren’t with us at Stone 
River, or Chickamauga, or Mission Ridge. You’d 


SHORTY BEFORE THE COURT-MARTIAL. 265 


know more if you had been. Your mental horizon 
would have been enlarged, so to speak. Aren’t you 
from Milwaukee?” 

“I was born and brought up there, until I went to 
West Point,” answered the Lieutenant, rather 
uneasily. 

“So I thought. The only man of your name that 
I ever heard of kept a saloon in Milwaukee — a great 
place for politicians to hang around. I used to go 
there myself when I was in politics. He was a sort 
of a ward boss. Was he your father?” 

“Yes, sir,” said the Lieutenant, with reddening 
face ; “but I don’t know what this has to do with the 
case that I have presented to your attention.” 

“It has a great deal to do with this lecture with 
which you have favored us,” answered the Major 
dryly. “But we’ll not discuss that in open court. 
Are you through with the witness. Judge- Advocate? 
If so, call the next.” 

“I’ll just ask the Captain a few questions for the 
defense,” said Lieut. Bowersox. “How did you know 
that the prisoner was drunk?” 

“How did I know it? How does any man know 
that another is drunk? He was boisterous, excited 
and yelling — that kind of a drunk.” 

“But that does not prove that he was drunk. That 
may be his way of doing his work. Did you see him 
drink?” 

“No.” 

“Did you ever see him before?” 

“Yes.” 

“How was he acting then?” 


266 


SI KLEGG. 


“I shall have to say that he was boisterous and 
yelling then, but not so wildly excited.’’ 

“Then it was only a difference in degree, not kind. 
Was he not accomplishing what he was ordered to 
do?” 

“Yes, he certainly did bring that limber out of the 
gulch.” 

“Then it is only a matter of opinion that he was 
drunk. You have nothing to guide you except your 
judgment that the* man was drunk, who was still 
doing his duty pretty effectively.” 

“But there could be no mistake. I know that the 
man was raging drunk.” 

“As I said before, that is a matter of opinion and 
judgment which I will discuss with the court later. 
Did the prisoner actually strike you?” 

“I cannot say that he actually did, farther than 
snatch out of my hand the field-glasses.” 

“He didn’t do it! You’re lyin’! I yanked the 
glasses out of your hand. ’Twas me,” shouted little 
Pete, from the oak leaves. 

The members all looked up in astonishment. 

“Sergeant,” said the Major to the Sergeant of the 
Provost Guard, “fetch that little rascal down and 
buck-an-gag him, until I can decide what further 
punishment he deserves for eavesdropping, and in- 
terrupting the court.” 

“I don’t care if you kill me,” whimpered little 
Pete, as they tied his hands together, “if you’ll only 
let Corp’l Elliott off. He wasn’t to blame. It was 
me. 

“You can go,” said Lieut. Bowersox to the Lieu- 


SHORTY BEFORE THE COURT-MARTIAL. .267 

tenant. ‘‘Sergeant, bring in Orderly-Sergeant Jacob 
Whitelaw.’’ 

In response to the Judge-Advocate’s direct ques- 
tionings the Orderly-Sergeant had to sorrowfully 
adhiit that he thought that Shorty was drunk, very 
drunk, and exceedingly noisy. But when Lieut. 
Bowersox changed to the defense, the Orderly-Ser- 
geant testified with great alacrity that he had not 
seen Shorty take a drink, that he did not know 
where he could have got whisky ; did not know where 
in all that part of Georgia there was a drop of liquor 
outside of the Surgeon’s stores and the officers’ can- 
teens; that he wished he did know, for he’d like to 
have a drink himself ; and that Shorty, when he was 
putting forth his greatest strength, was generally 
very vociferous and not at all careful of what he 
said. This was one of the peculiarities of the man, 
that he was overlooked on account of his great 
effectiveness on the men when in that state. 

The other members of the company testified in the 
same way, giving their belief even more emphatic- 
ally against any liquor being found anywhere in that 
neighborhood, and the unlikelihood of Shorty’s being 
able to obtain any. The other members of the court 
had “caught on” very quickly to the tactics of the 
President and Judge- Advocate. All except Lieut. 
McJimsey, whose prepossessions were decidedly and 
manifestly in favor of the attitude of his brother 
staff officer. He grew stiffer and more dogged as 
the case proceeded, and frequently asked embarrass- 
ing questions. The Judge-Advocate announced that 
the case was closed, and the court would be cleared 
for deliberation. 


268 


SI KLEGG. 


“Before you open, Judge-Advocate,” said Maj. 
Truax significantly, “I want to say something, not 
as a member of this court, but something between 
gentlemen, and I want to say it before we begin our 
deliberations, in order that it shall not be considered 
as part of them, or influencing them. The lecture 
by that self-sufficient fellow on our duties makes me 
tired. I remember his father — he sold the meanest 
whisky to be found in Milwaukee. I want to say 
right here that no man who ^ells lager beer can sell 
whisky fit for gentlemen to drink. Beer corrupts 
his taste, mind and judgment. Old Steigermeyer had 
a good deal of political influence of a certain kind, 
and he bulldozed the Representative from his Dis- 
trict into giving his son an appointment to West 
Point. Now this young upstart comes around and 
absolutely lectures us who have always been gentle- 
men, and our fathers before us, on gentlemanliness. 
It was hard for me to keep from saying something 
right before him about the quality of whisky his 
father used to sell. I can stand a good deal, but the 
idea of a ginmill keeper’s son lording it over others 
and over enlisted men who came of much better stock 
than he does sticks in my craw. Now, whenever I 
find one of these whose father got his appointment as 
Steigermeyer’s father did (and the old Major’s eye 
wandered down to where Lieut. McJimsey’s air of 
sternness had given way to visible unrest) I’m 
tempted to say unpleasant things. Now, Judge- 
Advocate, proceed.” 

“The evidence in this case,” said Lieut. Bowersox, 
with the severity proper to a ’vindicator of justice, 
“shows that it was a very flagrant breach of the 


SHORTY BEFORE THE COURT-MARTIAL. 


269 


essentials of discipline, and deserves stem treatment. 
A man wearing the chevrons of a Corporal, has, in 
the presence of a number of enlisted men, behaved 
.in the most unseemly manner, showed gross dis- 
obedience to his superior officer, reviled him with 
opprobrious epithets, threatened to strike him, and 
actually did strike him. On the other hand (and the 
Lieutenant’s tone changed to that of counsel for the 
defense), 'we all of us know that the prisoner is an 
excellent soldier of long service, that his influence 
has always been for the best, and that he was pro- 
moted to Corporal as an exceptional compliment for 
his part in capturing a rebel flag at Chickamauga, 
where he was wounded and left for dead on the fleld. 
It is for you, gentlemen, to take all these facts into 
consideration, and determine how men of this stamp 
should be dealt with for the best interests of the 
service. The evidence against him is in many 
respects conflicting, and rests upon mere judgment, 
in which the best of us are liable to err. I will not 
detain you farther, gentlemen.” 

“You say this prisoner was promoted for captur- 
ing a rebel flag at Chickamauga?” asked Maj. Truax, 
who was perfectly aware of the fact, but wanted to 
emphasize it upon the others. 

“Yes,” said Lieut. Bowersox, only too glad of the 
opportunity. “I saw it all. Gallant a thing as was 
ever done. Simply magnificent. Thrills me to think 
about it. I tell you that fellow’s a soldier all the way 
through. 

“That was before this Stiegermeyer fellow and a 
lot of other fellows (and again his eyes wandered 
carelessly down toward Lieut. McJimsey) had even 


270 


SI KLEGG. 


joined us. I remember him also bringing up am- 
munition to his regiment at Stone River. He is one 
of those fellows that you can send to the rear, and 
always be sure that he’ll come back as fast as his 
feet can carry him. I don’t want to influence any 
member of this court, but the evidence that we have 
heard don’t go an inch toward convincing me that 
he was drunk, or struck at his superior officer. There 
was some mistake, always liable to excited men. 
Lieut. McJimsey, you are the junior officer present. 
It i§ your right to speak and vote first. Let us hear 
from you.” 

The Lieutenant seemed to have recovered his 
sternness, and his expression showed a determina- 
tion to wreak exemplary punishment on the man who 
had so grievously offended one of his class. 

“It is clear to me,” he began in a hard, set tone, 
“that an example should be made. These low, brutal 
fellows” 

“When I lived in Chicago,” broke in the Major, 
in a conversational tone, apparently forgetful that 
he had called upon the Lieutenant to sjleak, but fixing 
a very piercing blue eye upon him, “I used to mix 
up a good deal with the boys who hung around a 
saloon kept by a ward politician, an unscrupulous, 
noisy, driving fellow named — But excuse me. Lieu- 
tenant, I forgot for the moment that I had called 
upon you to speak.” 

The Lieutenant’s face had undergone a remark- 
able change, and as he sank back in his seat, he said 
in a forced voice : 

“In consideration solely of the previous excellent 
character of the prisoner, I vote not guilty on all the 


SHORTY BEFORE THE COURT-MARTIAL. 271 


charges and specifications, but with a distinct warn- 
ing to the man as to the future.” 

'‘So do I!” So do I!” said the rest, one after 
another, so quickly that it was almost a chorus. ^ 

“Judge-Advocate,” said Maj. Truax, “when the 
General approves this finding, and you communicate 
it to prisoner, whisper in his ear that if he ever 
strains us this way again I’ll take it upon myself 
to break his fool neck. Let him look a little out.” 

“The next case I have is that of Serg’t Josiah 
Klegg, implicated in the same affair,” said Lieut. 
Bowersox. 

“Since we have acquitted the principal, it would 
be foolish to try the accessory,” said Maj. Truax. 
“Say the same thing to him. Now, let’s get down to 
business. Bring in that man that skulked when the 
boys were going for that abatis. I want to make an 
example of him, for the good of the service.” 





